


A Crown of Cloth

by itsalexdean



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Jon Snow is a Targaryen, Multi, R Plus L Equals J
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-29
Updated: 2019-01-21
Packaged: 2019-07-20 11:03:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 53,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16135901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsalexdean/pseuds/itsalexdean
Summary: When someone starts casting doubt upon Jon Snow's heritage to The King, Ned Stark absently remembers the last thing he ever told his sister.





	1. Prince of Thieves

**The Cheesemonger and the Prince of Thieves**

Illyrio lay back on the padded coach, eating pearl onions from a wooden bowl, while sweat ran down his brows, jewels dancing on his fingers with every move. If Varys noticed or felt disgusted by what his longtime friend had become - his expression revealed nothing. The eunuch had not changed much since the day they first met. Though he had been less plump back then, then again Illyrio supposed - so had he. He could smell the lavender perfume all the way from the other side of the table, all through the spicy food in front of him.

''You bring tidings of war.. it is too soon my friend. What good is war now when we are weak? Ten thousand men can not stand against the might of even one of the seven kingdoms, how do you expect them to stand against seven united kingdoms.. unless you've made progress?'' Illyrio muttered, wiping at his greasy fingers with a napkin.

Varys tittered. ''Who said anything about them being united my dear Illyrio? The wolf and trout will soon be at the stag and lion's throats, and if not then atleast there will be resentment.. resentment enough to be the cause of war and treachery,'' He drummed his fingers across the table, smiling softly. ''In Dorne the Viper still thirsts for vengeance, and in the Reach there are those who feel they have been unfairly treated since the stag crowned itself. They will not say no to the return of a dragon - a liberator, loved by many, hated by few.'' 

There was amusement on Varys's face.

''Even now the Tyrells are scheming to put their young flower on the throne in place of Queen Cersei, even though they hold little love for the stag. It is power they seek - power by bloodlines. Something they've never had a claim to. In the Reach the Tyrells claim to Highgarden is still as disputed as it has ever been, and the threat of House Florent remains even to this very day.''

Illyrio hesitated. ''You mean to act on what you learned in Dorne all those years ago then.. about the Kingsguard, is that it?'' He looked at Varys carefully. ''The King will not believe it, and from what you you have told me the boy looks nothing like his supposed father.. and we should be thankful for that. And what of Dorne? Should there be a war - if they declare for the boy then we are lost. This is folly, can you not see it my old friend? Why not instead let the new hand learn what the dead falcon did? Until the truth is out the bastards will sit safely on the Iron Throne.''

Varys smiled. ''You forget yourself Illyrio. King Robert won the war due to Lord Stark, Lord Arryn and the Riverlands. There will be little love lost between them when Robert finds out the truth. Even to this day he still curses the dragon prince with every breath he takes - and let us not forget Lysa Arryn who has fled to the Vale with her young son, speaking in hushed whispers of the Lannisters treachery, and of how they slew her husband Jon Arryn with vile poison.''

He leaned forward as if to tell a secret. ''If the Starks should do as i intend for them to do then it will not matter. In Dorne they still name the Lady Lyanna a whore, and blame her almost as much as they do the Lannisters for Princess Elia's death. The boy will find little to no compassion there. Once the rightful heir sets foot on Westerosi shores he will be backed by Dornish spears as well as the swords of the legions of Bittersteel,'' His lips pursed slightly. ''And should the Stark boy somehow manage to prevail and refuse his brother the throne.. well, if one prince can die why not a second? There is no time better than now to act, now that the hand is coming south, friendless and alone in a city of vipers that wish him nothing but harm.''

Varys sighed theatrically. ''Why i would even say that it might sadden me to do so. Lord Stark is a man of honor to be sure, but i fear that his knees will not bend so easily. Oh they might, if Robert knew the truth.. to save his nephew.. but by then i fear it will already be too late for him. Let us hope that his son will be wiser in due time.''

Illyrio shook his head. ''I still say we wait. In Tyrosh there are ambitous men sharpening their swords, wishing to reclaim what should've been theirs during the war of the Ninepenny Kings, while in Lys and Myr there are always those greedy for more wealth and riches. I say, let them go at eachother's throats while we wait. We have waited many many years, what's a few more? And the girl.. what of her? The plans seemed to have been altered have they not?''

''No one would have followed the boy anyway, he has always been a lost cause. He is the mad king come again, you and i both know it to be true,'' said Lord Varys dismissively. ''Sadly my little birds do not extend to the Dothraki sea, but Viserys is of little to no consequence. He will get himself killed soon enough, fool that he is. The girl on the other hand is meek and without a backbone. Yet when my assassin strikes at the child growing in her womb there will be no fury such as Khal Drogo's, regardless of whether she should live or die,''

''Why one could even imagine that he would want to avenge himself upon the stag, and would that just not be very fortunate for us?'' He gave a cruelly twisted smile. ''And should Aerys's daughter make it out alive, mayhaps there will be use for her yet. Should she have a daughter, then that daughter could be used to strengthen the bloodties even further. It would make even the most skeptical of men lay down their swords.''

Illyrio nodded. ''We will wait then, is that so?''

''We will wait Illyrio, wait yes, but only for the best opportunity. When our enemies are weakened - when they stand leaderless, their fields burned, their armies decimated. Only then will we strike, and they will flock to the rightful king's banner - mayhaps not out of love.. but all the same they will come. Those who are frightened and those who are tired of unjust kings and the ruin that they've brought upon the lands with their wars, and they will all want a good king, one to set it all right again. When they are tired of Aegon the Conqueror, and Daeron the young Dragon, then they will beg for another Jaehaerys the Wise to make things right again.''

Illyrio held his tongue, listening.

Varys's gaze darkened. ''They used to think that war could be won by swords back then, a rightful claim some believed, but alas in the end.. whispers of malice can be of so much more use, poisoning kings against those who bore them nothing but love, despite what they had become.. shadows of what they once were. It is a different way to be sure, but all the same it will see us achieve what we've been seeking for so long, better than the other way ever could.''

The cheesemonger narrowed his eyes. ''And what of the Tyroshi? They supported the house of Daemon.. what will they say of supporting a Targaryen?''

''It is of no consequence my friend,'' Varys said with a dismissive wave of his hand. ''Black or red a dragon is still a dragon, and those in the free cities have always been more interested in coin and power than who has the rightful claim to anything,'' He smiled softly. ''They are not like the Westerosi.''

Illyrio scoffed. ''Just so. We still have many friends in Essos, they will not break faith as long as they get what has been promised to them.'' he paused and his hands flicked to the silver locket in front of him. Inside was a painted likeness of a woman with big blue eyes and pale golden hair streaked by silver.

Varys's gaze flickered to the locket. ''Still, my friend?''

''I never stopped loving her,'' he said in an almost pained voice. ''And she was so easy to love.''

Varys looked at him neutrally. ''Just so.''

 

* * *

 

**The Bastard of Winterfell**

''You mean to deny me yet again brother?'' Jon asked him, his voice cold.

Robb shuffled his feet awkwardly under the table, narrowing his blue Tully eyes, so much like his mother's at the papers in front of him, refusing to meet Jon's gaze.

''The wall is no place for you Jon and you know it. I refuse to allow you to waste your life there, no matter how set you are on doing so. I cannot do this all by myself - i need you here by my side,'' he gave a weary sigh. ''In a few years time you could even be my castellan, when Rodrik gets too old for the job,'' Robb gave a wistful smile. ''Would that be so bad? I just do not understand why you are so set on this. Surely there are better ways to live and die.'' 

Jon said nothing. His fists were clenched and he had to keep his anger from flaring.

Robb paused, running a hand through his auburn hair. ''The Night's Watch is not what it used to be anyway.. they are nothing but thieves and rapists these days from the stories uncle Benjen tell, and every year they plead for better men.. what does that tell you?'' 

''It tells me nothing,'' said Jon stubbornly. ''There is honor to be found in the Night's Watch.''

Robb shook his head. ''Uncle Benjen tells it true,'' he insisted, his eyes hard. ''And that is where you wish to go? Would you rather eat and fight with monsters like that, than your own brothers? Those who love you?'' he questioned with a disbelieving face.

Jon shook his head. ''You have time to learn, and besides Lord Stark will not stay hand of the king forever. You know our father, he will be missing the north already. I'd wager that he will be back on a boat within a years time. And what place is there for me here? Your mother hates me and wishes me gone and you know it.. she would never consent to me being your castellan.. and i would not wish to impose..''

Robb tapped the table in annoyance. ''How many times do i have to tell you? My mother is not the Lord of Winterfell, i am. She does not get to decide whether you stay or go. You are my brother, and i beg you to forget this folly. How can you even think about going while our brother clings to his very life, barely holding on?''

''She told me that she wished it was me.'' Jon knew he shouldn't have mentioned that, but anger was clouding his mind.

Robb turned to look at him, his eyes wary. ''What?'' he asked quietly.

Jon clenched his fists. ''She told me that it should've been me instead of Bran, me who lay there dying.''

Robb's jaw tightened slightly, his gaze flickering to the window. ''She had no right to say that.''

''It makes no matter, truly. Your mother is grieving - we all are right now,'' Jon paused, sighing. ''In truth i do not believe she meant it Robb.'' Although some doubt still lingered, and even Robb flinched and looked away from him.

''Nonetheless..'' Robb continued, frowning slightly. ''I will not allow you to go. I do not trust father to be safe in the capital. When have you ever known Bran to fall? Never. He must have seen something. I know it.''

Jon looked uncertainly back at his brother. ''He could have slipped Robb. Do not start seeing shadows in the dark where there are none,'' He shook his head mutely. ''True enough I've never known Bran to be unsteady either, but who would hurt a little boy?'' he paused. ''We will not know until he wakes up anyway-''

''If he wakes up at all that is..'' Robb said with a bitter edge in his voice.

''Don't say that.. you know he will. The blood of the Kings of Winter of old runs through his veins, he'll be up again soon, you'll see,'' Jon said, his voice low. ''You Starks are hard to kill if nothing else.''

Robb scoffed. ''Aye, lest I have to make do with only you and Theon for company.''

Jon smiled slightly. ''Greyjoy might be poor company, but how would you ever make do without me beating you at swords in the practice yard every day?''

Robb let out a smile though it was tight. ''Can't have that can we?'' he released a weary sigh. ''So will you let go of this notion of joining the Night's Watch? If you still have a desire to waste your life on the wall i will let you leave once father comes back, but until then you'll just have to suffer staying here at Winterfell,'' His eyes lit up, a grin tugging at his lips. ''At Winterfell where there's a warm bed waiting for you.. the finest meat.. and lets not forget the women shall we? You would forsake women for the rest of your life? Have you lost your wits Jon? Theon would name you an oathbreaker and a turncloak just for that.'' he chuckled.

Jon shook his head in amusement. ''For now.. if it means that much to you, I will stay, though your mother will not thank you for it.. nor me.''

Robb waved him off. ''Let me deal with mother, she is distraught right now, but i hope that in time she will see how much you mean to the rest of us.. and that she may grow to.. in time.. like you as well.'' Even as Robb spoke the words, Jon could practically hear how little truth there was in them.


	2. Dragonspawn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some of the dialogue has been taken from AGoT and modified.
> 
> Warning: Some mentions of Rape in this chapter.

**The Whoremonger King**

''I will have no part in this. There is no honor in slaying unborn children still in their mother's womb. If you truly mean to go through with this.. then you are no longer the man i once knew, the man i once named a brother,'' Ned said darkly. ''You should atleast have the grace to look the girl in her eyes while she draws her last breath.'' 

The King felt rage almost beyond anything he had felt since The Trident throb through his veins.

''Gods Ned, the girl is nothing but dragonspawn,'' he growled, closing his eyes briefly. ''We are talking about Aerys's daughter, Rhaegar the rapist's sister, not some innocent blushing maiden. You of all people should know this, given what they did to your family!''

Ned's jaw set stubbornly, his eyes cold. ''If this is your notion of justice then I will hear no more of it,'' he said. ''The girl is barely older than my own daughter.''

Robert narrowed his eyes. ''The others take your honor Ned. May the gods know I've certainly had my fill,'' he swore, his own anger flaring. ''You are my hand, and you will do as i command. And if you do not, then I'll bloody find myself one who will.'' 

The other members of the small council remained silent.

_Damn them all to the seven hells._

''All the same, I will have no part in this,'' said Ned quietly, his grey eyes hard and unyielding. ''Go ahead and find yourself a new hand then. I wish him all the luck in the world.'' The man he considered his brother unfastened the heavy clasp that clutched at the folds of his cloak, the ornate silver hand that was his badge of office, before throwing it on the table.

Had Eddard Stark been any other man Robert would have bashed his face in like he crushed Rhaegar's chest with his warhammer all those years ago.

''Get out of my fucking sight then,'' he snarled. ''Run back to that frozen wasteland of a shithole you call home, and I'll be all the better for it,'' He slammed his fist down on the table so hard that it shook. ''And i swear that if i ever see your face again I'll have your head on a bloody spike!'' 

Lord Stark bowed his head and left the room without another word, leaving Robert to stew in his rage. He could hear the old fool Pycelle, and the whoremonger Baelish talk about assassins, but he blocked it out.

 _Damn you Ned, why can't you see what i see?_  

The girl was nothing but dragonspawn. The same dragonspawn that had raped and slain his sweet Lyanna.  _For that he would have killed them all, every dragonspawn in the world._ He still dreamt about it every night. The way his warhammer had crushed Rhaegar's chest - his gaze trailing across the red rubies as they scattered into the water, the strong current devouring them along with the Targaryen legacy. He could still remember Rhaegar's lifeless purple eyes staring back at him, shining as brightly in death as they ever did in life, taunting him even from the beyond.

'' _I had her, and you never did.''_

''Get out, all of you,'' He hissed as silence reigned around him. ''She dies, and that's the end of it. I will not mourn her, and nor will anyone else.'' 

_Leave me to my ghosts._

And they left like the rats and lickspittles they were, but no, there was still one man left. Robert could feel the anger building inside him again.

''Are you deaf as well as maimed eunuch?'' he yelled. ''Get out of my sight!'' 

''Lord Stark has little reason to bear the dragons any goodwill, and yet here he is defending them,'' Varys mused. ''Strange, is it not?''

''You'll hold your tongue. He loves them no more than i do,'' Robert spat. ''It is merely his accursed honor and nothing more.''

''Is that so?'' Varys lowered his gaze slightly. ''I am afraid there might be more to the story than that Your Grace.''

Robert swallowed another gulp of wine. ''What in the seven hells are you implying eunuch?'' 

Varys bowed his head. ''Forgive me Your Grace, but i have urgent news to share with you - news concerning both Lord Eddard Stark's late sister and himself.''

Robert turned sharply, rounding on the eunuch with fury.

''Lyanna? I will not hear her name come from your filthy tongue - what damn news could you have about her?'' he demanded.

 ''Forgive me Your Grace, but my little birds have heard a whisper in Dorne,'' Lord Varys explained, his voice distant. ''A most serious whisper, concerning your late beloved,'' he paused a moment. ''I have to ask - how much do you truly know about what happened at the Tower of Joy?''

''Ned fought some knights with shit for honor to save my Lyanna, what of it?'' he asked, his voice dangerously low. ''Speak plainly now - if you'd like to keep your tongue.''

''But why would The Kingsguard keep her there, when the person believed by Targaryen loyalists to be the heir to the Iron Throne - Viserys, had fled across the Narrow Sea? Forgive me Your Grace, but it strikes me as odd.'' Varys replied, his voice low.

Robert furrowed his brow, rage throbbing through his veins at the mere thought of it. ''Because that bastard Rhaegar ordered them to keep her there as his prisoner damn you!'' Rage blurred at the edge of his mind, blood pumping through his veins. He forced himself to remain seated. ''I grow weary of your games Varys. You've spun your tale, and now i'd like for you to get to the point - before i run out of patience.''

The eunuch showed no sign of distress, though his eyes remained wary. ''Ser Arthur Dayne was the Prince's closest companion. Surely Rhaegar would have had need of him on the battlefield?'' he paused, letting the words sink in. ''Needing three men to guard a sixteen year old girl, does it not seem strange to you?''

Robert narrowed his eyes. He was clutching at his goblet so tightly that he could feel it cracking. ''Out with it eunuch, out with it you scheming cunt,'' he hissed. ''What is it that you're not telling me?'' 

''You shall know the truth Your Grace,'' Varys assured him, his voice soft. ''You may not know the story of what happened when Lord Stark went to find his sister. He went to the Lady Ashara Dayne first you see, as she was likely to know Ser Arthur's whereabouts. There was no child in his arms when he left Starfall to look for his sister and yet.. a reliable friend of mine has told me that Lord Stark was seen leaving the Tower with a milkmaid and a child - a little boy wrapped up in a bundle. A dragonspawn. The Kingsguard were not just keeping the Lady Lyanna prisoner, they were protecting the heir to the Iron Throne. Forgive me Your Grace, but Lord Stark has betrayed you.''

Robert smashed his goblet onto the table, his hands shaking. ''And tell me Varys - where in the seven hells is he supposed to have hidden this Dragonspawn you speak of?'' He rose from his seat, towering over the eunuch. ''You dare lie about her? - about Ned? By all rights i should have your bloody head for this - i know damn well there was no dragonspawn with him when he came back to the city with news of Lyanna's death! The only damn child with him was his... no.. it can't be..'' he trailed off, his voice as low as a whisper. He shook his head. ''No. The boy looked just like him - just like Ned..'' Robert shook his head again, his fingers twitching slightly.

''Just like Lyanna Stark,'' Varys interjected calmly, his eyes fixed on Robert. ''Just like his late sister. There is no trace of his father in him - Rickard Stark's blood flows through the veins of his grandchild, far more than Aerys's ever did.''

Robert's insides twisted, and for a moment he felt like vomiting. He slumped in his seat, his gaze absently landing on the eunuch. 

Varys merely looked at him with pity in his eyes.

Fear gripped his heart for a moment, where an instant before there had been only anger. Ned couldn't have.. no.. not after what Rhaegar did to her. But Robert had not forgotten how the man had screamed and raged at him after Clegane's killing of the rapist's son and daughter - could he have kept his sister's son - even if it was a child born of rape? He had wanted to protect the whore, and the monster growing inside her womb too.

It couldn't be true - cold fingers crept up his spine, his own fingers absently clenching around the hilt of his dagger - to make sure that it was still there. His best friend, his brother.. all these years. He would not believe it - he couldn't, but the truth was staring him plainly in the eyes. The bastard - Ned avoiding every question about the boy's mother. At Winterfell he had never even seen the boy - Ned must have kept him hidden, out of sight. Rhaegar's dark indigo eyes flashed in front of him again, burning bright with mockery, but they now belonged to a boy of four and ten, with long silver hair - a boy, lurking deep within the shadows of Winterfell, a dagger hidden in his hands, venom in his eyes. 

Robert swallowed bile, gripping the table to steady himself, as memories long gone by filled him with a bitter rage. He didn't know what was worse, the pain or the fury coursing through his veins. It felt like something had cracked inside him - some part he had buried a long time ago. 

Varys shuffled his feet uneasily, bringing Robert out of his stupor. ''I saw the boy when Lord Stark brought him to the capital. He appeared to be the wrong age, too young to have been conceived at Harrenhal, yet too old to have been conceived during the Rebellion, but Your Grace.. i'm afraid there's more..'' 

''More?'' Robert spat. ''What could possibly be worse than this..'' he trailed off, his voice choking with grief and rage.

''They seem to have been married on the Isle of Faces Your Grace,'' Varys confessed quietly. ''Though it was forced upon her, i assure you.'' he hastily added, seeing Robert's face become purple in rage, his eyes narrowed to slits, wine running down his face, staining his doublet.

''By what right did he dare lay his filthy hands on her?'' he hissed, trying to keep his hands from shaking. ''Had he not hurt her enough - had he not brought her enough pain already?'' He let the empty goblet drop from his fingers, to shatter on the floor _._

_Where was i? I should have been there._

''Send as many men for the whore as necessary. I want her _dead - I want them all dead,_ '' His voice was icy quiet. ''The damn girl, her brother, Rhaegar's son - _all of them_ ,'' he gripped the table so hard that he could feel himself drawing blood - relishing in the pain. ''I will not suffer their existence any longer. I should have rid myself of those abominations years ago.''

Varys bowed his head. ''It shall be done Your Grace, but we must act with haste. Your false friend Lord Stark has already started his work towards seeing his nephew seated on the Iron Throne. My birds have heard whispers in the Riverlands,'' Varys continued. ''His lady wife - the Lady Catelyn, has taken the Imp prisoner - to use him as a hostage against the Lannisters once the war begins. She has taken him to the Vale, likely to rally her sister's support to the Dragonspawn's cause. Meanwhile Lord Stark is preparing to leave the capital soon, to call his banners.''

Robert could see it now. All these years.. he'd been taken for a fool. He had thought the Lannisters his enemies, yet the man he had thought to be his best friend had been plotting behind his back - sharpening his greatsword Ice for the day it would be used to stab him in the back. Rhaegar's eyes flashed in front of him yet again, a dark indigo shining feverishly.

'' _I stole your betrothed, i stole the son that should have been yours, and i stole the only man you ever considered a brother_.'' 

For a moment Robert felt eerily calm. He was beyond pain, beyond rage - the only thing left to him was hatred.

''Summon the court Varys, and bring me Lord Stark. I'll find out the truth of this myself.'' 

The Eunuch's lips twitched. ''The court Your Grace? Forgive me, but is this not a matter best taken care off in private?''

Robert narrowed his eyes. ''If what you say is true, then I'll have his treason known to the whole seven bloody kingdoms.''

''Of course Your Grace, but would it not be wiser-''

''I said bring me Lord Stark, damn you!'' he bellowed, cutting Varys off. ''Do it now, and get the fuck out of my sight.'' 

Varys bowed his head demurely. ''I live to serve, Your Grace.''

* * *

 

**The Quiet Wolf**

_Damn you Robert._  

To hate a man so much, even after all these years, Ned had not thought it to be possible. The sight of dead children covered in Lannister crimson flashed across his mind's eye. He needed to get home, away from the capital where you could not tell the difference between a viper and a man. He no longer knew The King, whoever that was it was not the boy he had grown up with in The Vale. That boy had died the day he became the king, and the only thing left was a bitter old man, drunk on former glories, still seething with hatred after all these years, endless hatred for the family he thought had denied him Lyanna Stark.

Ned rose and paced the length of the room, his gaze flickering towards the window.

_I can not linger here._

He seated himself in a chair by the hearth, slumping slightly in his seat. His eyes remained closed.

_If only you were here Lya._

_How different would things have been?_

He barely even noticed when the door opened, and his steward entered his solar.

''You sent for me my Lord hand?'' Vayon Poole asked him.

Ned turned around warily. ''We shall be returning to Winterfell, there is no time to waste. Find a ship - we will leave by nightfall if possible.''

Vayon frowned. ''I will do my best Lord Stark.. though finding a ship could prove hard if you mean to leave tonight.''

Ned shook his head. ''It must be today, the king bears me little goodwill right now.''

He did not really think that Robert would harm him, but he needed to get out of the city regardless. He had still not pieced together the extent of Jon Arryn's death. All he knew was that the man had been murdered. He thought of Stannis, if he could make it to Dragonstone he might find out the truth, before taking a ship to White Harbour from there.

''I shall make the arrangements, my Lord.'' Vayon assured him.

Ned gave a brief nod, but was interrupted by yet another knock on the door. He frowned as Jaime Lannister walked in with five Lannister men at arms.

''What is your business here Lannister?'' Oddly enough it disturbed him that the Kingslayer was not smirking for once. His eyes were rather hard and cold.

''You have been summoned to court Lord Stark,'' Ser Jaime replied, his voice low. ''His Grace seems to be of the belief that you have much to answer for.'' 

Ned frowned. Could the king have heard about his wife's capture of the dwarf, or was this about the Targaryen girl? He felt an ill sense of foreboding.

''Very well, lead on then.'' he replied warily, rising to his feet.

He fell in line with the Kingslayer, neither of them speaking, the red keep seeming eerily quiet for once as they walked towards the throne room.

Ser Barristan met them at the door to the throne room, his armor shining brightly beneath the sun. He nodded stiffly at the Kingslayer, while Lannister's men pushed open the great oaken doors, twenty feet tall and banded with bronze.

The royal steward led them in. "All hail His Grace, Robert of the House Baratheon, the First of his Name, King of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm," he sang out.

It was a long walk to the far end of the hall, where Robert waited atop the Iron Throne.

Five knights of the Kingsguard—all but Ser Jaime and Ser Barristan—were arrayed in a crescent around the base of the throne. They were in full armor, enameled steel from helm to heel, long pale cloaks over their shoulders, shining white shields strapped to their left arms. Cersei Lannister, a look of confusion marring her beautiful, yet cold feautures, stood behind Ser Boros and Ser Meryn with her two youngest children. To their left stood Joffrey Baratheon, a look of boredom and contempt on his face, flanked by Sandor Clegane.

Both Baratheon and Lannister men at arms, stood beneath the west windows in silence, while a line of gold cloaks stood beneath the east windows.

There were no commoners in the gallery, yet great lords and ladies alike stood watching him neutrally. He spotted the king's younger brother Renly standing next to the Knight of Flowers, Ser Loras Tyrell. There were others as well - The lords Dondarrion of Blackhaven, Morrigen of Crow's nest as well as the Stokeworths - Lord Estermont, the King's grandfather, Lord Caron, Lord Yohn Royce, Ser Robar Royce, several Lannisters and many other major and minor lords from both the Reach, Stormlands, Riverlands and Westerlands, such as the Young Redwyne twins and Patrek Mallister.

Ned felt sick all of a sudden.

He chanced a look upon the king, but Robert's face was impassive, his eyes cold.

''Your Grace this is very unusual..'' Pycelle piped up.

''Quiet you old fool.'' The King snapped.

Robert's gaze finally landed on him - and in that moment when their eyes met - Ned could've sworn there was hurt and pain in Robert's eyes that he hadn't seen since the day he brought him the news of his sister's death, but then it was gone in a flash - as if it had never been there in the first place.

''Do you happen to know what your wife has done Lord Stark?'' he asked in a voice strangely flat and emotionless.

It would not do to show weakness, or to let his wife take the blame. ''I do, all she did was at my command. She is not to blame Your Grace.'' 

The Kingslayer's green eyes flashed with resentment. ''And would you be so kind to tell me why you have taken my little brother? He may be small, but i happen to be quite fond of him.''

Ned fixed Ser Jaime with a cold look. ''That is a matter i would prefer not to openly discuss in front of the entire court Lannister.'' 

''But you will Lord Stark,'' said Robert quietly. ''It seems strange to me - right now there are many things that seem strange to me.'' 

Ned frowned. He tried looking for his daughters in the midst of the gallery, but found no sign of them, the sickening feeling returned tenfold.

''Robert, where are my daughters?'' he asked warily.

''They are safe,'' The King said, in that same eerily calm voice. ''You need not concern yourself with them Lord Stark.'' 

_Lord Stark, not Ned, Lord Stark._

''What is this really about Robert?'' he asked calmly, unable to hide the coldness seeping through his voice. ''Is this about the Targaryen girl?''

_Even after all these years.._

He could hear confused murmurs from the gallery, but his eyes did not stray from Robert's.

''Aye, it might be,'' said Robert sharply, his eyes narrowing. ''Tell me why you wanted her kept alive, because truthfully i fail to see why you should owe her or her family any loyalty at all.''

Ned clenched his fists. ''She is a child Robert - a girl of three and ten,'' he said coolly. ''Her last name does not make her guilty of Aerys's crimes.''

''Ah, yes.. Aerys's crimes..'' Robert mused, his voice laced with bitterness. ''The crime of burning your father alive - the crime of having your brother strangled right here in this very room.''

''What is the point of this Robert, do you mean to shame me?'' Ned felt anger rise inside him. ''To bring up my grief in front of half the nobles in the seven kingdoms?'' 

The king shook his head. ''No,'' There was barely suppressed anger in his eyes. ''I mean to know the truth Ned.''

''The truth?'' Ned asked. ''What damn truth is that?'' he hissed. ''The Targaryens are gone Robert,'' he shook his head in disgust. ''A girl and a mewling child across the Narrow Sea are no threat to your reign.''

''Apparently some of them still linger, even here in Westeros.'' Robert's voice was barely above a whisper.

Ned froze.

_No._

''I think you already know what this is about my friend,'' Robert continued, his voice cold and unfamiliar. ''For fourteen years you have lied to me - smiling at me, naming me your brother, your king - all while harbouring a claimant to the Iron Throne in your home, passing him off as your bastard son, waiting for the day that he would come of age. Waiting for the day that he would be old enough to usurp me.''

_Gods. No._

_Promise me, Ned._

The gallery went into a stunned silence, before both minor and great lords alike started talking, the whispers spreading like wildfire around the room, while the queen's eyes widened, along with the Kingslayer's and the rest of them, yet Ned was numb to it all. His throat had gone dry, and he had to keep his hands from shaking.

''Your Grace.. that is a lie, who has been telling you this?'' he asked, trying to keep his voice from shaking.

_He couldn't have known, he couldn't have._

''You told me to atleast have the grace to look the Targaryen girl in the eyes while she drew her last breath, yet you can not even meet my own when lying straight to my face Ned. You disgust me,'' Robert's face was dark with anger. ''You told me Lyanna died of a fever - a childbed fever was it?'' 

''Your Grace.. please.. do not make me speak of her.. not here,'' Ned pleaded. ''You of all people should know what she meant to me, what she meant to us.''

''Answer me!'' Robert spat, his voice trembling with anger. ''Did she, or did she not die of a childbed fever?''

''My children.. gods Robert,'' he spoke, and for the first time there was fear in his voice. ''What have you done with them?''

_Sansa and Arya.. no.. he wouldn't have.._

''Answer me, Ned!'' 

Shakily he managed to regain his composure slightly, his eyes meeting Robert's. 

_He would not have harmed them. Not my daughters._

''Jon Snow is my son, not Lyanna's, nor Rhaegar Targaryen's.'' he answered in a low voice.

''Ah,'' Robert's eyes narrowed. ''Is that so?''

''It is,'' said Ned darkly. ''I do not know who it is that has been filling your ears with these lies, but that is the truth of it Robert.''

''Who is the boy's mother then?'' Robert demanded. ''Pray tell, Lord Stark, and you will give me the truth this time.''

Ned hesitated, fear rising inside him. ''I have told you before Robert,'' he began, his voice low and quiet - as the court remained silent. ''Her name was Wylla.'' 

Robert scoffed at that. ''Wylla yes.. how convenient,'' His eyes narrowed slightly. ''I remember you refusing to speak of her, you would not tell me who the girl had been, nor what she had looked like.''

Ned glared at him. ''She is dead Robert,'' he said bluntly, the words tasting like ash in his mouth. ''Let the past be the past, let her be at peace.''

''And still you lie to me..'' Robert glared back at him.''I wanted to know.. i needed to know, because i could not believe it to be true,'' he paused, and in that moment Robert merely seemed old and beaten, as if something had broken inside him. ''You were the last person i thought would ever betray me.'' 

''Robert, i never-''

''You will not speak,'' Robert interrupted him, his voice as cold as ice. ''I have heard enough of your bile.''

Murmurs echoed throughout the throne room.

Robert's gaze flickered to some other part of the room. ''You were seen leaving Starfall, and there was no babe in your arms when you rode for the tower,'' he paused, his eyes twitching. ''Yet you left that same tower with a child, one you later claimed to be your bastard son, Jon Snow.. do you deny it?''

Ned shook his head mutely. ''Robert i-''

''Enough Ned,'' spat Robert. ''The truth now - let us bring an end to this mummer's farce,'' he turned his gaze to Ned again, his eyes hollow. ''Did she, or did she not die of a childbed fever?''

He felt a wave of despair hit him, but then nodded mutely, feeling bile rise in the back of his throat.

''Aye,'' he admitted hoarsely, his voice low. ''She did Your Grace.''

_My daughters.. i can not.. gods.. forgive me._

_Forgive me Lyanna.. forgive me Jon... i never meant for any of this to happen.._

Robert's gaze darkened. ''And yet you took this Jon Snow.. or Jon Targaryen,'' he growled at the last part. ''You took him into your home - this murderer of my Lyanna, passing him off as your bastard son, when in truth he was the son of Rhaegar Targaryen - the Grandson of Aerys, the Mad King all along - the man who slew your father and brother, did you not?''

''Lyanna would have not wanted for any of this to happen,'' Ned's breath caught in his throat, but he forced the words out. ''She never meant for any of this happen, but she loved her son - that i can promise you. Do not judge him by the sins of his father, because he is nothing at all like him.''

''You dare use her against me?'' Robert interrupted him, his voice cracking slightly. ''If you ever speak her name again i will have your tongue ripped out. You have no right - no right at all - not after this.''

There was disgust in Robert's eyes.  _He hates me as much as he hates them._  Ned realized - wariness and fear alike creeping up his spine.

''There were many people i thought would betray me Ned.. but you?'' Robert continued in a low voice. ''We were raised as brothers.. i brought you here because i thought you were the only man i could trust, yet in the end you turned out to be just like the rest of them. A viper waiting in the grass, biding its time, waiting to strike when i least expected it. Was her memory worth so little to you? I never cared about the damn throne - i would have given it all up for her. You should have just put a knife in my back fourteen years ago if the throne was what you wanted.. may the gods know it has brought me nothing but grief.'' 

Ned fell to his knees. ''Robert, i loved her.. only you know how much i loved her. And you of all people should know i would have done anything for her..'' he paused, trying to regain his strength, though it felt like the world was crashing down around him. ''Robert, he is her son.. she wanted him to live, to grow up, to have a life of his own. She made me promise to protect him.''

Robert's gaze darkened. ''You have lied to me for fourteen years.. and you expect me to believe this?'' he laughed, it was a bitter sound. ''I will trust your false tongue no more. You have betrayed her memory just as much as you've betrayed me. Your brother Brandon would've spat on you.. after everything that monstrous family did to yours. When i found out i could not believe it - some part of me still does not, yet now i see the truth of it all the same. Be damned Eddard Stark, you are no brother of mine,'' Robert shook his head, his eyes dull. ''Truly, i'm not sure you ever were.''

_I failed her. I failed Jon._

Ned looked around, trying to meet the eyes of the lords and nobles, but there was little to no pity in any of their eyes.

He already knew that he would not be able to make Robert see reason, but hadn't some part of him always known that? 

_I see no babes. Only Dragonspawn._

''Your Grace, surely Lord Stark's treason would be a matter better discussed in private?'' The Queen asked sweetly, though her eyes remained as cold as ever.

''What do you know of it woman?'' Robert spat. ''I'll have every man from Dorne to The Wall know of his treason should it please me!''

''Jon merely wants to serve in the Night's Watch. He is no danger to you, nor your reign - allow him to take the black and he will not trouble you,'' said Ned hoarsely, feeling like his throat was closing on itself. ''I beg you Robert, please do not harm him.'' 

Again images of dead children covered in crimson flashed across his mind's eye, a bed covered in blood and blue roses in the ever present background, and soft words spoken that he would never forget.

''More lies Your Grace,'' Lord Baelish interjected, his voice dripping with mockery. ''Do you take us for fools, Lord Stark?'' 

''I want him dead father!'' Prince Joffrey demanded. 

''Take his head!'' he could hear someone in the gallery shout. ''Traitor!'' others shouted.

Robert stood up, his eyes flicking briefly around the hall before landing on Ned - they were gleaming - Ned closed his eyes briefly, his fingers clenching.

''I will give him the same fate i gave his father - the same fate any of those accursed abominations deserve,'' Robert said in the coldest voice Ned had ever heard him use. ''He will never sit this throne, not so long as i still draw breath.''

Ned felt a shiver run up his spine. ''Do not do this Robert, do not sully your name any more than you already have done,'' he pleaded, his voice low. ''Do not throw the realm into another senseless war - you need not stain your sword with the blood of innocents,'' He shook his head mutely. ''There has been enough bloodshed, and you are no Tywin Lannister.''

The king smiled slightly, and there was a fervor to his eyes that Ned had not seen before, a burning thing in his gaze, a fire that Ned knew he would not be able to quell. He had seen it once before, when Robert had learned of Lyanna's abduction, and he knew what it meant then, and he knew what it would mean now.

''I will have his head one way or another.'' said Robert, his voice so thick with anger that it was almost a growl. ''Let him flee,'' he laughed bitterly. ''Let him flee all the way across the Narrow Sea, and i will hunt him down like a dog fit for slaughter, and should your son choose to raise his banners in revolt, then the North will burn with him.''

Ned closed his eyes, his hands trembling. His mind had gone blank, his tongue numb and he felt strangely void from the room, as if he was not truly there anymore. Memories flickered briefly, moments of loss and grief. In his mind's eye he could see Jon running around in the courtyard as a little boy, the very image of her, and something twisted violently inside him. 

''Then the boy i grew up with in the Vale truly is dead and gone,'' he said finally, his voice filled with loathing. ''I'll mourn for him, and not the man you've become.''

''You have no right to judge me,'' Robert replied, his voice dripping with disdain. ''The boy's blood is on your hands.''

Ned could not bring himself to reply. His jaw clenched and for a brief moment he wanted to scream - to strangle Robert, to lash out at him, to strike him, to protect his family. Cat, Robb, Jon, his daughters - all of them, but deep inside he already knew he had lost. 

_I see no babes. Only Dragonspawn._

Robert's lips curled, his eyes twitching. ''I thought i won that day all those years ago Ned, when i slew him, when his lifeless eyes stared back at me. It felt like triumph.. it felt like justice. I thought it was over.. yet in the end he won didn't he?'' Robert laughed humorlessly. ''He got everything i ever wanted.. the woman i loved, the son that should have been mine, even the brother i chose.. nothing was enough for him was it?''

''Robert.. it has never been like that you must-'' 

''Bring in Lord Stark's daughters.'' Robert cut him off, his voice booming through the hall.

Ned turned to see Sansa and Arya being led in by four goldcloaks, their armor ringing heavily with every step in the silenced hall.

''Father?'' Sansa asked hesitantly, while Arya glared at everyone around her, though she too looked nervous.

''Sansa, Arya - it's alright.'' he began before he was interrupted by The King.

''Tell me about this Jon Snow,'' The King demanded. ''Were you aware of your father's plotting?''

''Jon Snow..'' Sansa frowned, tears starting to pool in her Tully blue eyes. ''He is just our half-brother, why would our father be plotting with him?'' she asked innocently.

''So he never told you either then?'' Robert's face clouded over, his hands trembling. ''It just so happens that your cousin is the son of the rapist Rhaegar Targaryen. Your treasonous father only claimed him to be your brother, so that he could one day take the throne in his name.'' 

At that Arya wrestled free of the gold cloaks. ''Liar!'' she cried out, tears running down her cheeks. ''He is my brother!'' 

Robert however had frozen. ''By the gods..'' he murmured, staring at Arya as if he had seen a ghost.

''Arya don't.. be quiet.'' Ned tried to warn her.

''I won't let him speak about Jon like that, king or not!'' she yelled.

Ned turned to Robert who was still staring at Arya with a gaze that disturbed him.

''Robert.. i beg you, if you ever loved Lyanna.. let my daughters go. They have naught to do with this.. it is my treason, not theirs.''

''I thought i told you not to speak her name..'' Robert's eyes twitched slightly, his gaze darkening. ''You will not do it again, not if you value your own life.. or that of your daughter,'' his gaze flickered to Arya again, his eyes growing darker. ''Tell me about Jon Snow girl, tell me about the dragonspawn that hides in Winterfell, plotting to take my throne,'' Robert demanded. ''And you will give me the truth this time, unless you wish to see your father's head rotting on a spike by nightfall.'' 

Sansa was shaking and clutching at her arms, tears freely running down her cheeks now, and it broke Ned's heart to watch. Yet his youngest daughter stood fierce, her eyes narrowed, her chin turned up defiantly, glaring at the king.

''Jon is brave and strong, like a king should be, not some fat oaf like you!'' she cried out. ''And he is my brother!''

Robert seemed to lose his composure at that. ''A king?'' His bright blue eyes flashed in anger. ''Jon Snow is naught but the son of a rapist, and the grandson of a madman, and if the gods are just there will be nothing left of the wretch once i'm done with him,'' Robert's eyes met his own. ''You thought The Trident was bloody Ned?'' he asked, rising to his feet. ''You thought Rhaegar's death was grim?'' He spat it out like venom. ''If there is any justice at all in this world you'll be there to see it when i cave his breastplate in. You'll be there to see it when his eyes become devoid of light and laughter. If the gods are just you'll be there to see it all.''

_He can not be reasoned with. He will never let it go. He will never let her go._

''He never raped her. She went willingly with him Robert.. gods.. i'm sorry, may the gods forgive me, but it's true..'' said Ned, in a voice that was barely above a whisper. ''I never told you because.. i knew it would've broken you to know the truth of it. The war was over. The Targaryens were gone, dead, and scattered to the wind... there was no reason at all for me to ever tell you. I promised her that i would protect him, and every day since i've kept that promise.''

_Fourteen years.._

''You dare lie to me - about that?'' Robert spat, his voice thick with grief and fury. His eyes flickered briefly towards Ser Barristan. ''Have him thrown in the bloody black cells. It sickens me to even look at him.'' 

''It is no lie,'' Ned closed his eyes, his hands trembling. ''You never knew her, not truly. You merely saw what you wanted to see, but you never saw her as she truly was. You never saw her fears, her hopes, and her dreams. You never knew the girl behind the image you shaped her in.''

''You've lied, deceived me, betrayed me,'' Robert hissed, his voice as clear and sharp as ice. ''You will not defile her memory any more than you already have.''

Ned shook his head mutely. ''You are in love with a ghost Robert, one whom never truly loved you back, not like you loved her,'' He spoke again softly and haunted. ''And it grieves me to say because i have loved you like a brother..''

''You're lying,'' Robert had gone pale, and there was something akin to fear in his eyes. ''You condemn yourself with every word you speak.''

Silence filled the hall.

''He never forced her to marry him Robert.. you need to let her go.. forgive me,'' Ned's insides twisted harshly as he spoke. He could hear Sansa sobbing in the background, but dared not turn to look at her, lest Robert might focus his fury on her. ''You may not find any solace in the truth, but you will hear it all the same. There might be scarce little left of the boy i grew up with anymore, but you have never been cruel, nor vicious. You've never been a tyrant Robert.. that is not you. He is a boy, one that bears you no ill will. I beg you to reconsider this.''

''You're lying,'' Robert hissed again, rising to his feet. ''I will not hear any more of your lies.'' his voice shook as he spoke.

''The truth may be cruel, but i will not lie to you Robert, not anymore,'' Ned said in a voice thick with grief. ''She loved him, and whether he loved her or not i do not know.. but she loved him and that is the truth of it, a lie i to my shame have lived with for the last fourteen years.''

''Your Grace.. we should put an end to this now. Have him thrown in the black cells, and we may discuss this further in private.'' The Queen pleaded, her voice cracking like a whip - though her demands seemed to fall on deaf ears if Robert's reaction was anything to go by.

''Truly, Ned?'' Robert asked, descending the steps, every move echoing throughout the silenced hall. ''You would dare lie to me - about that? You would lie to me about that - despite knowing how much she meant to me?'' he paused in front of Ned who could not help but tense. ''Surely we are - were more to eachother than that?''

Ned lifted his chin slightly, meeting Robert's eyes. There was no joy in them, nor any rage - merely something strange and unnerving.

''Any man who would threaten my family is no brother of mine,'' Ned replied, his voice quiet and slightly detached. ''And Jon Snow is as much my son as you were ever my brother. I will not deceive you, nor tell you any lies - not so that you may murder my own nephew. You'll look him in the eyes and know that it's Lyanna's own son that you've murdered - the same woman that you claim to hold above all else in life.''

Robert did not answer for a long moment. ''So be it,'' said Robert at last, his voice quiet and withdrawn. ''I should've known all along - I should've known when you spoke in favor of Rhaegar's wretched spawn, the whore and the rest of them - after everything they did to your family. I should have known.''

What happened next went by so quickly that Ned barely had time to comprehend it - gasps were heard around the gallery and the Kingslayer's eyes glinted dangerously. ''If your desire is to live a traitor's life,'' Robert stood tall as he spoke, towering over Ned. ''Then you may rot in the seven hells with the rest of them.'' He drew Ser Boros Blount's sword from the man's scabbard, moving quicker than Ned would have believed possible, and then he turned sharply, grasping the sword with his right hand - before slashing it wildly at Ned's throat with all his weight behind it. The last thing he ever heard was his daughter Sansa's scream of horror as Lyanna's and Cat's faces swam to the forefront of his mind, while the man he had once named a brother brought the sword down on him.

_Promise me, Ned._

 

 


	3. Dark Wings, Dark Words

**The Bastard of Winterfell**

''I should be down there,'' Bran said quietly. ''I should be down there running with them.''

''Aye,'' Jon agreed, his voice wary. ''You should have been.''

''I'll never walk again,'' Bran said sullenly. ''I'm no use to anyone here, you and i both know it to be true.''

''Don't say that. You know it's not true Bran, and nor does anybody here think that about you.''

Yet the words themselves felt hollow to Jon, and Bran didn't seem to believe them either, with the way his dull eyes stared out at the yard below. Eyes that previously had been full of life and mischief. He had wanted to be a knight, yet he would never walk again, never swing a sword. Jon had seen the way people looked at his brother now, looks of pity and some even of disgust. He hoped Bran hadn't noticed them.

''Why won't you just leave me alone?'' Bran asked him, his gaze following the four direwolves running around in the snow down below.

Jon flinched as if struck. ''Because you are my brother, and because it tears both me and Robb up to see you like this.. your father would not want you to be like this, nor your mother Bran.'' he said quietly. He reached out to grab Bran's shoulder, but he shrugged him off. 

''Well they can walk, can't they?'' 

Jon did not know how to respond to that, so he stayed quiet.

Bran was silent for a long moment. ''I have these strange dreams Jon,'' he began - before biting at his lower lip.

''What?'' Jon asked him warily. ''What are you talking about?''

''There's a crow and.. and it speaks to me..'' Bran's eyes lingered on Summer as he spoke.

Jon shifted uneasily. ''You should not linger on dreams Bran, they rarely are what we believe them to be,'' he paused, leaning back against the wall. ''I dream of the crypts sometimes - dreams that feel so vidid that sometimes i wonder whether or not..'' he trailed off, his voice low. 

Bran turned to look at him and Jon felt sick to the stomach when he noticed the tears running down his eight year old brother's cheeks.

''It's not fair Jon.'' his voice was as low as a whisper, his face almost as pale as a ghost. ''None of it is fair.''

''No it's not.. but it does not mean that your life is not over.. there is still so much you can do, and we all hate to see you like this. Thanks to Lord Tyrion you can ride a horse, and you are a trueborn son of Lord Stark, which means you will never lack for anything whether it be marriage proposals or the hospitality of the North.'' Jon wiped his brother's tears away. ''Father would want you to be brave would he not?''

Bran gave a small nod, but he still seemed unconvinced. Jon could not blame him.

Jon's thoughts turned to Tyrion Lannister as the silence lingered on between them. Jon had liked him well enough when he had first met the dwarf, yet from what Robb had told him of his Lady mother's suspicions.. though why the Lannister would have any reason to want to murder his brother he could not figure out. He had not seemed cruel to Jon.. honest, and maybe mocking, but not cruel.

He ruffled his brother's hair, smiling all the while. ''I will be back later with Robb,'' he gave a light scoff. ''And if you try to keep us away - then we will just have to carry you around, and annoy you with our company little brother.'' 

A small smile seemed to tug at the corner of Bran's lips at that, though he tried to hide it.

The yard was quiet and empty now. Truth be told the castle itself felt empty without his father. When Jon was younger he had sometimes prayed before the heart tree that Lady Catelyn would be sent away, and that his father would bring home his mother. Someone beautiful, with high cheekbones and kind eyes, someone who could love him. Afterwards he had felt ashamed, for despite her hatred of Jon his father still loved her, and he would not want to cause him pain. Those were selfish thoughts, the thoughts of a bastard who wanted to play at being lord.

_I am no Daemon Blackfyre._

He walked past Greyjoy standing in the snow further away, talking to Osha - their wildning prisoner and did his best not to meet his eyes. It was a short walk to Lord Stark's solar - Robb he supposed. Atleast until his father returned. His brother was yet again sat perching over scrolls when Jon entered.

''Jon.'' Robb grinned up at him, his bright blue eyes flashing with mirth.

''Lord Stark.'' Jon greeted him, a subtle hint of mockery in his voice.

Robb frowned. ''Gods not you too - truth be told i do not feel much like a lord.''

Jon poured himself some wine. ''Aye.. maybe not, but there's no time better than the present to learn, no?'' he smiled. ''One day you'll truly be the Lord of Winterfell and you'll need to know all these things, and you'll need to know your bannermen and smallfolk too.''

Robb grimaced. ''Forgive me if i'm not desperate to meet the likes of Lord Bolton. Some of the stories i've heard of the Boltons Jon - they would give you nightmares. The other lords as well. The Umbers.. The Karstarks.. these are men who've fought in wars.. they've killed men, and i can't help but wonder what they will think of a green boy like me. I try to act the lord.. but i must admit that it scares me.. the duty, the responsibility, all of it Jon.''

Jon nodded. ''Yet father always told us that the only time a man can be brave is when he's afraid.''

Robb's shoulders seemed to slump at that, his feautures weary, and his normally blue vibrant eyes dull. ''As of late i feel like i'm sharing that responsibility too Jon.. Rickon keeps asking me where his mother and father are.. he doesn't understand it, and he thinks we'll be leaving him too.''

Jon shifted uncomfortably ''Your Lady mother will be back soon, hopefully with news of what's been going on in the capital, and about father.''

''I hope so brother. I do not like it at all, the things she told us about the Lannisters.. gods.. if they truly murdered Jon Arryn and pushed Bran out of the window..'' Robb trailed off, his voice low.

''Told you,'' Jon corrected him. ''I was not there remember?'' Jon said, with a hint of bitterness. He had been excluded when Lady Stark told Robb about the letter from her sister Lysa Arryn. Even Theon had been there. Jon had only been told afterwards by Robb, who had seemed embarassed on his behalf.

Robb narrowed his eyes. ''Don't start this again Jon, she was already upset by you staying here. It will take her some time to come to terms with it.''

''If you say so.'' Jon replied rather stiffly.

Robb sighed. ''Come with me Jon,'' he said, rising from his chair and walking out the door. Jon followed wordlessly in his wake.

They walked through the yard, shivering slightly from the wind, while snow drifted down upon them from above,

''I was thinking.. when father comes home. I've heard such tales of the East Jon, great towns and cities, filled with gold and silver, strange people, elephants, beautiful women, gods and what not. I was thinking that maybe father would allow us to go. Mayhaps we could take Theon with us. Just the three of us, travelling to Essos and beyond.'' he smiled wistfully, seeming more like the boy he was then the man he was portraying as Lord Stark.

Jon shook his head in amusement. ''Father would never allow us Robb.. and Greyjoy is his hostage.'' Yet Jon had to admit the idea appealed to him all the same. He had never been further than the North, and would have liked to see more of the world someday.

Robb grimaced. ''He is my friend, and if you weren't so sullen all the time he might have been yours too.'' 

Jon snorted at that. ''He has never viewed me as anything but the Bastard of Winterfell, and he never will. You and i both know that.''

Robb shrugged his shoulders. ''He has always been like that. He doesn't mean anything by it, not truly - he just likes teasing you is all. Anyway it's a big world, and i'd like to see some of it before the day i die. Is that so wrong of me?'' Robb asked quietly.

Jon felt as if that wasn't really what they were discussing, but he stayed quiet.

''Stark!'' The shout brought an end to their conversation. They turned to look at Theon striding across the yard with a wry grin on his face.

Robb flashed a grin. ''Speaking of the kraken!'' 

''What are you doing out here freezing your balls off in the cold Robb?'' he grinned, before noticing Jon's presence. ''Snow.'' his face soured slightly. Jon nodded back warily.

''We were born in the snow Greyjoy. Wolves from the far north, not some fish out of water like you.'' Robb chuckled.

Theon smirked at that. ''Forgetting your mother's own sigil are you Stark? You look more like a trout than a wolf either way i'd say.''

And it was true, Robb had the look of his mother, while Jon had the look of his father. He had often wondered if that was why The Lady Catelyn hated him so.

Robb flushed red. ''What are you doing out here anyway? Have you run out of wenches to bed? I'm surprised you haven't gotten a bastard or two on any of them by now,'' Robb said, before pausing to look at Jon who had tensed. ''I did not mean..''

Jon waved him off. ''I'm not some precious flower. I'm a bastard what of it? You don't have to walk on eggshells around me when it comes to that word.'' 

_Why do they always have to remind me of that?_

Theon laughed at that. ''Snow has the right of it. He'll have to learn to live with being born on the wrong side of the sheet - If he ever wants to get anywhere in this world that is. I've probably got half a dozen bastards running around out there to be sure. Little krakens with dark hair and grey eyes, as comely as me of course.'' 

Jon would not be surprised if he did.

''I'm certain you do,'' Robb responded dryly, rolling his eyes. ''But we all know that you Iron Islanders can't even count your own isles, so it hardly makes any matter.''

''Might be i'll make an army out of them when i take the Seastone Chair,'' Theon continued, ignoring the mockery. ''I hear that old lecher Frey has got a hundred children running around at that castle of his.''

Robb grimaced. ''No honourable man would ever-''

''Honor, honor, honor..'' Theon repeated mockingly. ''You take too little pleasure in life Stark, and you Snow.'' Theon cut him off with a grin, glancing over at Jon who was busy glaring back at him.

''Let me take you both down to Winter's town on the morrow, and we'll get a wench for the both of you,'' Theon smiled. ''You know damn well who and what i'm talking about already Robb,'' he laughed. ''How far did you-''

Robb flushed and scowled at him. ''Shut up,'' he hissed. ''Not here.''

Jon clenched his fists. ''I will father no bastard,'' he spat. ''You may father as many as you wish, but leave me out of it Greyjoy.''

And he knew he wouldn't. How could he possibly father a bastard on some serving wench.. when that was likely what his mother had been? He wanted to imagine her as highborn and beautiful.. but how could he? Why else would his father refuse to tell him about her?

 _Did she shame you so.. father?_ he wondered.

Theon snorted, his eyes lit with amusement. ''You don't need to father a bastard to get your cock wet Snow, it might even do you some good. Who knows, you might even come back with an actual smile on your face, instead of that brooding look you usually wear?'' his voice dripped with sarcasm as he spoke.

Robb shook his head, fixing Theon with a cold look. ''Just be glad that my mother is not around to hear this Theon.. you'll keep your mouth shut about it. Either way i shall soon take a wife, and i will not shame her..'' he trailed off, not meeting Jon's eyes, again probably thinking the same thing Jon was thinking.

_He will not shame her like father shamed his mother with me._

Theon smirked. ''Suit yourself, but don't come complaining to me when your wedding night turns out to be a disaster.''

That produced a snort from Robb. ''You are the last person i would ever take advice from Greyjoy.'' 

Theon feigned hurt. ''You wound me Robb. What man is more skilled than me in this godforsaken, snowfilled wasteland?'' he gave a hoarse laugh. ''Cley is about as charming as a horse, and Tallhart looks like death warmed over - you and i both know it to be true,'' He gave a wistful smile. ''Back on the Iron Islands my uncle Aeron is a contender to be sure.. or my uncle Euron, though the less said about him the better actually.. a disturbing man to be sure..'' He trailed off, looking almost uncomfortable. Even in the North they had heard rumours of Euron Greyjoy, a man feared by any of those unfortunate enough to cross him. His galley, The Silence, with its black sails and dark red hull, was infamous in every port from Ibben to Asshai, it was said.

''I saw you talking to that wildling woman earlier Greyjoy. Were you trying to bed her too?'' Jon said dryly. 

Theon reddened slightly. ''The woman is mad i tell you. She must have lost her mind beyond The Wall,'' his lips quirked into a bemused smile. ''She started going on about grumpkins and snarks as soon as i came within sight of her, talking of dead things walking in the night. By the way she was talking you would have thought the others had come back to life.''

Robb shared a wary glance with Jon. ''That ranger spoke of such strange tales as well, the one who father executed.''

Jon frowned. ''Mad men see what they want to see.. right?'' he paused. ''Yet it is strange all the same, who truly knows what is beyond the wall?'' Old nan's stories came back to him all of a sudden. 

''Why don't you do us all a favour and go find out Snow?'' Theon laughed. ''I thought you'd be swearing your vows at Castle Black by now anyway?'' 

''I was forbidden.'' Jon grunted, shooting a pointed look at Robb who grinned back at him.

''And you'll be all the better for it you'll see.'' Robb said, clapping him on the back.

''It's not like he could come off any more sullen than he already does anyway.'' Theon said dryly, leaning back on the wall.

Jon snorted. ''I do not brood Greyjoy. We do not all walk around thinking that we're the gods gift to life.''

''I suppose i should not boast of my own charms,'' Theon flashed a grin. ''Though i am nothing if not honest, and no woman ever named me a liar Snow.''

Robb grinned, suddenly looking more spirited then Jon had seen him in weeks. ''You might be right about that cold Theon, i say we go inside and feast our little brothers.. Bran could use something to raise his spirits,'' Robb tensed a little. ''How is he Jon?''

Jon shook his head. ''Getting better, but.. he sat with me today, watching Summer and Ghost play down in the yard, and.. he thinks he's broken Robb..''

''Aye, he's a cripple, what of it? On the Iron Islands men are bred by the hardships they face in life. Your little brother will be all the stronger for it, you'll see.'' said Theon.

Jon felt anger throb through his veins.

Robb turned sharply to glare at him. ''Don't call him that!'' he hissed.

Theon shrugged, that insufferable smile never leaving his face. ''Have it your way Robb, but sooner or later he will have to come to terms with it.''

''Well i'll be damned if i'm going to let him think that about himself. Tonight we'll throw a proper feast for him.'' Robb said, turning towards the great hall, his feet kicking up snow all around them as his pace increased - with Jon and Theon following in his wake as the snow drifted down upon them from above.

* * *

**The Dutiful Brother**

''And what do you make of this supposed young dragon?'' he asked his elder brother.

''A bastard born of rape, soon to be dead. Of little consequence to us. Yet even a bastard can have its uses when people are thirsting for revenge, and need someone to rally behind, thanks to Robert's folly.'' Tywin said from his chair. Even seated, he was tall, with long legs, broad shoulders, a flat stomach, pale green eyes, narrowed in thought.

''But the letter from The King-

''The truth is what we make it,'' Tywin interrupted him. ''That farce of a trial could end up costing us a kingdom. The Starks will not sit meekly by while their liege lord rots in the ground. The heir will call his banners or lose respect in the eyes of the Northern lords.''

''It also says that Lord Stark's wife has taken Tyrion.'' said Kevan warily.

Tywin's eyes hardened at that. ''How the fool got himself captured in the first place.. an embarassment, yet it must be answered all the same. If another house can take a son of House Lannister prisoner without reprisal, then we are no longer a house to be feared, and i will not be made a mockery of, never again.'' Tywin said, his pale green eyes flicking to the fireplace.

_If only Joanna was here.._

She had always known what to say to him. His brother had always been cold, yet now his smiles were so rare that Kevan could not remember the last time he had seen one of them.

Tywin continued undaunted. ''The king will doubtless try to make this into The Battle of the Trident come again.. just so that he can relive some of his former glory. If it gets him killed, all the better House Lannister. He was never cut out to be king, no more than Aerys ever was. I will take Lord Stark's place as hand and rule as i did for twenty years under the Targaryens. Should the king prevail, then he will continue drinking and whoring himself to an early grave, it is of no matter to us.''

Kevan didn't even bat an eyelid. If any other man was to speak that way about their king.. but Tywin Lannister was no ordinary man, and not all kings wore crowns.

Kevan shuffled his feet uncomfortably. ''The boy will likely want revenge.. for what happened during the sack..''

His brother raised an eyebrow at that, though there was no amusement to it. ''Gregor Clegane's doing, not mine,'' he said coolly. ''And should the boy want revenge he is welcome to have it. I have already commanded Clegane and his men to start raiding the Riverlands. I Mean to see the riverlands afire from the Gods Eye to the Red Fork. That young fool of a Tully will be eager for glory, eager to protect his people.. and should there be a war.. well any man would be a fool to challenge The Mountain that Rides to single combat, yet the need for vengeance makes fools of the best of us.''

Sometimes Kevan wondered if his brother truly believed that he was not to blame for Clegane's brutality during the Sack of King's Landing. It had made his own stomach churn when he had seen the small bodies wrapped up in crimson, though he had kept his eyes straight ahead, not showing any emotion, always following his elder brother, dutiful until the end. And that was nothing compared to what he had felt at Castamere.. the river of blood, a boy, a little girl .. the sight of.. he couldn't even bring himself to think of it. Bile rose in the back of his throat.

_All for House Lannister._

''And will anyone flock to the boy's banner? Will the Northerners?'' Kevan asked his brother.

Tywin sipped at his wine. ''If the Stark boy has any wits about him he will crown his cousin king. The Northerners will not like it, but they cannot stand alone against the might of both Casterly Rock and Storm's End. I have already sent my daughter orders, to make those at court from the Riverlands, The Vale and especially those from The Reach our honored guests.''

Kevan knew well enough by now what honored guests meant to Tywin.

Tywin continued, frowning slightly. ''Dorne.. The Reach.. neither can be trusted, yet neither are likely to declare for House Targaryen. Mace Tyrell claimed to be loyal to the cause of Aerys, yes, but where was he at The Battle of the Trident? Doing the same thing we were, waiting to see which way the wind would blow. They want a crown and we shall give them one, before the dragon does. The Greyjoys will do what they have always done, Robert should have ended their line after the Rebellion and been done with them.'' his eyes narrowed slightly. ''We could leave a dynasty lasting for thousand years.. or nothing at all. Our family's future is at stake. A king with Lannister blood has never sat the Iron Throne. Joffrey Baratheon will be the first, and i would go through the seven hells, and sup with the stranger if he would show me how to achieve my goals for my family. Our family.''

Kevan did not doubt him.

''Aerys's grandson cannot be allowed to father another child. Gods if Robert had found out before..'' Kevan muttered.

''No.'' Tywin agreed. ''The Blackfyre rebellions plagued Westeros for hundreds of years and if this Jon Snow is allowed to continue his line there will always be those wishing to use any heir of his for their own goals and purposes. But if the boy has any ounce of cunning he will try to reach out to the Tyrells or the Martells. Should he marry some Northern slut to appease his cousin's lords their war will already be lost before it begins. We must pray that the boy is as big of a fool as his father and grandfather.''

Kevan nodded. Tywin's voice had become even colder at the mention of his former king, as it always did. Some slights were simply too big to ignore.. and that slight they all whispered about.. well the ones who whispered and were heard usually ended up without tongues, either that or they were found dead with their throats cut. One did not make a mockery of Tywin Lannister and live to tell the tale.

''We will begin harrying the Riverlands then, draw the Tully boy out and get his kin in the North to come to his aid, is that it?'' Kevan asked him.

Tywin nodded warily. ''Had that fool of a king kept Eddard Stark prisoner this could have been avoided without much bloodshed.. we have his daughters to be sure, but that will most like not sway the boy from vengeance. Moat Cailin can not be stormed.. and a siege would take years, and that is if it is even possible at all. We will draw him out and slaughter his host in the open where he cannot hide. Neither Snow nor Stark has ever won any battles and the Tully boy is also as green as piss.'' 

Kevan walked over to the window. The ocean was a beautiful sight from The Rock, he thought to himself, memories of sunny days long gone by coming to mind, back when they were children, only wishing to make a name for themselves. Back when even his brother had seemed more carefree.

He turned to look at his brother who seemed to be staring at the fire as if it could tell him the secrets to life itself. ''Do you ever get tired of it all? The war? This will be our third.''

His brother looked up at him, his eyes as cold as his daughters. Where Jaime's was full of life Tywin's rarely ever showed any emotion at all. _Joanna's eyes_ he thought to himself.. those had been full of life. Had Tywin's eyes been as well, back when she was alive? He could not remember anymore.

''We will do what we must. For our family, as we have always done,'' he answered, his voice cold. ''Once i start serving as Hand of the King Jaime will take his place as my heir and start ruling Casterly Rock in my stead,'' He shook his head in disgust. ''His days of prancing around as some common guardsman are over. He will marry as he should have done years ago..'' he glared at the fire. ''My children will no longer make a mockery of our house. I will find him a wife from the Westerlands or any other region, but he will marry and that is the end of it.''

''Tyrion..'' Kevan muttered weakly.

Tywin turned sharply, his eyes narrowed. ''That lecherous little beast will never inherit The Rock,'' his eyes flashed in anger. ''I would sooner give it to you or your own son than him.''

''You are too harsh on him..'' Kevan tried, though he knew it was futile.

Tywin glared at him. ''I will hear no more of it.'' 

Kevan knew a dismissal when he heard one. Bowing to his brother he took his leave. He sometimes wondered if he was the only man in the world who could name himself a friend of Tywin Lannister. For all that his brother was he still loved him. Tyg had never been content to live in Tywin's shadow, trying to make up for it with his prowess in battle. Gerion had tried to make a name for himself, sailing into the Smoking Sea to find House Lannister's ancestral sword Brightroar, yet Kevan had always been there by his brother's side. 

* * *

**The Little Bird**

She had wept enough for a lifetime.

_Let it end._

Every night it came back to haunt her, King Robert's rage, her father's expression of surprise before the blade came for his throat.

_No more.. please._

Her father who had never been anything but kind to anyone. Her father who had calmed her down whenever she had a nightmare, back when she was a little girl and had come running to him. Her father who had read her the tales of Jonquil, and Florian The Fool. The tales of Aemon the Dragonknight and his love Naerys. She let out a sob, pulling her arms tighter around her own body.

She had already heaved the contents of her stomach several times, whenever they had brought her food. She knew she must look dreadful. 

_What would the prince think?_

_The prince that laughed and grinned when father.._ she could not bear to think of it.  _Joffrey is a monster, just like the king himself._

From what she had heard The king had travelled to Storm's End along with his younger brother Renly to call his banners, while word had been sent to Stannis Baratheon at Dragonstone to marshal the Royal Fleet. At Casterly Rock it was said that a host was gathering under the command of Ser Jaime Lannister, ready to march on the Riverlands. Of the rest of the Seven Kingdoms less was known. Sansa had been kept within the stout walls of Maegor's holdfast the first few days, her door closed and barred, Jeyne Poole beside her. Outside the battle had raged, her father's men being slaughtered. She had heard the curses, the whimpers of pain, the shouts for mercy. 

_Where was the mercy my father deserved?_

Of Arya she had heard nothing. For all she knew the mad king had killed her too in his rage. On the third day they had her write a letter to Robb, proclaiming her father as a traitor to the crown, and demanding that Robb come to King's Landing to sign fealty to King Robert.. and.. demanding that he bring the Dragonspawn with him.

 _Jon..._ The first day she had blamed him in her pain, for the loss of her father. Later she had felt ashamed of herself. Jon was not to blame for King Robert's madness. Her father had hidden him in Winterfell his entire life, out of love for his sister.  _How could she hate him for that?_ Something like shame and regret would come over her from time to time, thinking about how she had treated him at times, like he was invisible or not truly there.

Yet a bitter thought still stirred within her at times, making her wonder if it would not have been for the best if her father had never raised Jon at all.

_How much suffering and pain could have been avoided? Surely there were Targaryen loyalists that would have wanted him?_

_A prince from a broken house, a tragic love story between the dragon prince, and her aunt, Lyanna Stark,_ if what she had heard her father say was true, like in the stories and songs she loved so much.  She almost produced a teary smile at the thought of it.Her old self would have found it romantic, now she merely found it sad, something that added to her grief, and nothing more. 

_Would he even want to come for me?_

She sank down in front of the heart tree, the wind ruffling through her hair. The godswood was the only place she could find peace and quiet. The only place she could escape Joffrey and The Queen.

''My Lady, it is time to go.'' One of her assigned guards grunted from behind her.

She nodded wearily. She had freedom of the castle, but what did that matter with guards trailing her every step from a distance? The Queen had called them honor guards for her daughter to be, but she was no fool.  _Not anymore._ What happened that day had shown her that there were no true knights in the world.Ser Jaime Lannister, Ser Barristan Selmy, Ser Loras Tyrell, Ser Robar Royce.. all knights of renown, and yet none of them had stepped forward to defend her father from that monster of a king. The true knights seemed to only exist in stories and songs, while in real life monsters roamed the realm.

The throne room brought nothing but unpleasant memories to the forefront of her mind. She wondered if that was why Joffrey had called her here along with the rest of the court. In the king's absence he had had her beaten several times, though never infront of anyone but himself. She had thought him handsome once, now all he filled her with was revulsion.

The prince was supposed to have been going to war, yet his mother had convinced King Robert that it would be better if he learned how to rule in the King's absence. The King seemed to have reluctantly agreed. Joffrey had her beaten more than usual that day, so she supposed he was less than pleased as well.

Under the gallery a cluster of lords great and small milled restlessly. Most of them were glorified hostages, just like herself. Lord Yohn Royce had been allowed to travel home under the guise that he was to bring The Vale to the throne's cause, yet his son Ser Robar remained in King's Landing as a threat. There was Ser Loras Tyrell who was prone to snap at people if they just so much as looked at him the wrong way. He had been less than pleased at being held hostage.

There were others as well, The black-skinned Jalabhar Xho, The Redwyne twins who liked mocking her as much as Joffrey did, Patrek Mallister who sometimes gave her sympathetic glances, though well out of sight of the prince or his mother. The Stormlords had left with The King, to raise an army. Some of The Lords of the Narrow Sea were also here. Lord Guncer Sunglass, Lord Monford Velaryon of Driftmark, a comely man with long silver hair and eyes that seemed to be purple in the sunlight. There was also some cousin of Lord Celtigar. 

_Men who might be sympathetic to Jon's cause.. if there even is one?_

_He will come for me.. Robb will come for me._

She had to believe that, because if she did not, then she was not truly sure what she had left to believe in. Sometimes it felt like a nightmare that would never end. She kept expecting to see her father, but it was never him. She saw grey eyes, but they were not his shape. She saw brown hair, but it was either too long or too short. The faces were short instead of long, and the voices gruff rather than kind. 

None of them ever talked to her. It was like she was a disease they all hastened to avoid. She thought she might even prefer it that way after all that had happened, yet all the same it was a very lonely existence. Jeyne had disappeared too, and no one would tell her where she had been taken.

She slipped in among them, murmuring greetings as she went, yet they all ignored her, shying away from her eyes. She was used to it by now, yet it still hurt. She was the daughter of a traitor, the cousin of a Targaryen.. what remained to be seen was whether she was the sister of a rebel.

Lord Varys was sat at the council table along with the grandmaester, Pycelle.

A herald's voice rang out. "All hail The Prince, Joffrey of the Houses Baratheon and Lannister, All hail his lady mother, Cersei of House Lannister, Queen Regent, Light of the West, and Protector of the Realm."

They were led in by the kingsguard. Ser Arys Oakheart escorted the queen, while Ser Boros Blount walked beside Joffrey.

The prince took the steps of the Iron Throne two at a time, while his mother was seated with the council. Joffrey wore plush black velvets slashed with crimson, a shimmering clothof-gold cape with a high collar, yet they did not make him any more comely to her own eyes.

When Joffrey turned to look out over the hall, his eye caught Sansa's. His smile made Sansa shiver inside for it never reached his eyes. He seated himself, and spoke. "It is a prince's duty to punish the disloyal and reward those who are true. Grand Maester Pycelle, I command you to read my father the king's decrees."

The old grandmaester confirmed Lord Tywin Lannister as the new Hand of the King in the place of her  _traitor_  father. Half the realm seemed to have been summoned to King's Landing. The Tullys, her own family.. Robb.. her mother.. The Arryns and the most important of their bannermen. Everyone who were now believed to potentially be traitors. 

_Traitors like me, like my family._

Janos Slynt, Commander of the City Watch of King's Landing was made Lord of Harrenhal for his part in subduing..  _murdering.._ her father's men and for securing the peace in King's Landing. After all it had been the gold cloaks under his command who had been quick to take the nobles hostage. There were angry glares and mutterings all around her as the man knelt in front of the prince.

When the court session was at an end the herald's voice boomed out. "If any man in this hall has other matters to set before His Grace, let him speak now or go forth and hold his silence."

Ser Loras Tyrell stepped forward, his hair a mass of lazy brown curls and ringlets tumbling down over his golden brown eyes. ''Your Grace, i humbly ask that you give me leave to travel home to The Reach. I will bring Highgarden to your cause i swear it.''

The prince frowned at that and was about to speak when his mother stepped forward. ''Have we not made you feel welcome Ser Loras? In such times of tumult you must understand that we can not be certain of your father's loyalty.. a man who fought for the Mad King.''

Ser Loras grit his teeth at that. ''The only fighting my father ever did was laying siege to the banquet table at Storm's End.. he has no more cause to love the dragons than you do Your Grace. My sister is to be betrothed to the king's younger brother Renly, whom i squired for at Storm's End. We are loyal to House Baratheon your Grace i swear it by The Seven.'' he said, taking a bow.

''Then why has Lord Mace Tyrell not yet called his banners?'' Joffrey asked, glaring at the older knight. ''If he is loyal then he should prove it by fighting for the rightful king.''

The Queen cut him off. ''I'm sure that House Tyrell will remain faithful to the King good Ser, yet all the same in times such as these one can never be too sure where ones loyalties lie. Just to think of Lord Eddard Stark who the king considered a brother.. yet he betrayed him all the same, plotting to overthrow him. If a man can not trust his brother, then who can he trust Ser Loras?''

Sansa tensed. '' _It was your cruel king who betrayed him! My father only wanted to protect Jon from receiving the same fate your family gave his brother and sister!''_ she wanted to scream, yet she held her tongue. Tears were beginning to flow down her cheeks now. She viped at her face with her sleeves pathetically, yet she knew people were looking at her, and she could feel the prince's gaze on her, a smile on his face, malice in his eyes. She refused to meet them. She would not give him the pleasure, there was little more he could do to hurt her. 

Ser Loras tensed, seemingly unsure what to answer.

The Queen smiled sweetly, though it failed to reach her eyes. ''You will stay as our honoured guest until your father declares for The King.. now if that was all?''

Ser Loras nodded warily, walking off with a grimace, taking his place again among the gallery.

There were a few other cases. Lords pleading to be allowed to return home. Minor lords pleading for justice, restoration of their homes, arguing about lands that supposedly belonged to them and noone else. A tavern singer had his tongue removed with hot pincers, for singing a song about the horned King Robert, who had been fooled all along by the Lady Lyanna in her love for the Dragon prince.

When the herald's voice dismissed the court she tried to flee back to the Godswood in haste, but the Prince was waiting for her as always.

"Walk with me," Joffrey commanded, offering her his arm. As much as it repulsed her she knew she had no choice in the matter, so she took it, forcing herself to smile at the prince.

''I'm to marry the lady Margaery Tyrell mother says. The rose of Highgarden they call her,'' He smiled sweetly at her. ''A far more beautiful girl than you if the tales are true.'' 

 _Could it truly be?_ She tried not to show any emotion, yet in her heart she felt the need to smile and cry tears of joy.

''I am glad to hear it my prince,'' she said, meeting his eyes quickly, before turning her gaze to the ground. 

Joffrey frowned, his bright green eyes narrowing at her. ''Are you not sad my lady? You will no longer be a queen.''

Sansa bowed her head demurely. ''Of course my Prince, but i know i'm not worthy of a prince as noble and good as you.''

Joffrey nodded at that, seeming pleased. "This way." He led her into the gatehouse, to the base of the steps that led up to the battlements.

Sansa held back a sob when realization hit her. ''No.. please don't.. not again..''

Joffrey merely smiled sweetly at her. ''Traitors must always pay with their lives, and no man was a bigger traitor than your father who plotted to take my throne from me.''

Sansa tried to back away, but the prince had Ser Meryn drag her up. She pleaded, but the prince merely laughed at her, his green eyes glinting feverishly in the sunlight.

When she was finally standing on the battlements she felt numb to it all. She looked to the North,  _North to her mother, her brothers, her cousin, home, to Winterfell._

She turned her head numbly to where Joffrey was pointing in glee. A thick stone parapet protected the outer edge of the rampart, reaching as high as Sansa's chin, with crenellations cut into it every five feet for archers. The heads were mounted between the crenels, along the top of the wall, impaled on iron spikes. She stared up at the head that Joffrey told her was her father's, yet she felt nothing but sorrow. It did not look much like her father she thought to himself, and nothing could ever be worse than what she had seen in that throne room, the nights she woke up screaming from her nightmares were proof enough of that. How could anyone so cruel? To want to bring someone so much pain.. she could not understand it. She turned to look at Joffrey who was grinning at her, his eyes seemed as mad as his father's. She absently wondered if he cared about anyone, if he had ever felt love for someone or if his life was devoted to cruelty and cruelty alone. How could anyone be so emotionless, so cold?

''Your bastard cousin wants to take my throne from me,'' His bright green eyes flashed in anger. ''I'll mount his head on a spike too and make you look at it, and your brother too if he turns traitor like your father,'' His mouth twisted into something mocking and cruel. ''Mayhaps i'll give you his head as a present, all nice and wrapped up in crimson like his brother Aegon's.'' 

Sansa felt sick, yet she could faintly hear herself saying. ''Or maybe he will give me yours, or your father's.''

Joffrey had Ser Meryn beat her for that too.

That night she went to the godswood and prayed for Jon and Robb to come South, to save her and Arya. She prayed for her to return safely to Winterfell, her home, and for both the King and Joffrey to die.

* * *

**The Young Wolf**

Robb grinned at his brother, charging forward while Jon swung his own sword to parry. Their weapons clashed, steel against steel. Robb would readily admit that Jon was the better sword of the two of them, while he was the better lance.

He tried to make up for it with brute strength, for where Jon was lean, fast and yet strong, Robb was stocky and well-built, like his grandfather, those who had known Hoster Tully in their youth had told him. Their swords clashed again, yet Robb could feel himself stumbling backwards now. Jon swung his sword wide, Robb barely being able to parry it. Soon enough Jon found an opening.

''I yield, I yield, oh spare me brother!'' Robb grinned up at him.

''You should take this more seriously.'' Jon chuckled, his grey eyes shining in the daylight.

''I should.'' Robb agreed, wiping his hair away from his face.

''Might be you'll make it as a hedge knight one day Snow.'' Theon piped up from the sidelines.

His brother snorted. ''Some warrior you are Greyjoy, with that bow of yours. A craven's weapon, is it not?''

Theon reddened at that. ''At the end of the day the man with the bow is the one who remains living, not the one charging into battle heedlessly..''

''Will you two shut up?'' Robb groaned.

''L-lord S-stark'' a voice came from behind him.

Robb turned around to spot Maester Luwin. 

_Something is wrong._

The small grey man had tears in his grey eyes and his lower lip was wobbling.

''News from the south my Lord.'' Maester Luwin managed to choke out.

Robb froze.

_Dark Wings, Dark Words._


	4. Family, Duty, Honor

**The Young Wolf**

Robb could only stare down at the letter in horror, his hands trembling. ''Tell me that this is a lie Maester.. gods.. i need you to tell me that this is a lie and nothing more.'' he said in a voice barely above a whisper.

''It grieves me as much as it does you Lord Stark. I truly wish that i had better news to bring you. Your father was a good man. You have my condolences.'' said Maester Luwin solemnly.

''Robb.. what has happened?'' asked Jon, his voice low.

Robb couldn't bring himself to meet his eyes. ''T-They've killed father Jon.. slain by King Robert himself it says - justice it says..'' The words tasted like ash in his mouth. ''Justice,'' he repeated numbly, feeling as though he might retch. ''Justice they call it..'' He could feel tears pricking at his eyes. He wiped them away angrily.

He could not believe it, he refused to, yet he knew the truth of it all the same. It was written plainly there right in front of him.

_My father is dead, my mother a fugitive.. and Jon.._

_Gods.. i can't do this alone._

''Seven hells.'' Theon muttered, gripping the chair in front of him.

He could see that Jon had gone still, yet he could still not meet his eyes.

''W-what? - tell me that you are lying Robb.. father cannot be..?'' Jon choked out.

Robb felt like vomiting, he gripped the table so hard he could feel himself drawing blood. ''They claim that father plotted to overthrow the king - that he conspired with my mother, and that she has taken the Imp hostage and fled to the Vale. They did not even grant him a trial.. the king's justice they call it. Robert Baratheon slew him like the Mad King slew Brandon - slew our grandfather Rickard and he dares call it justice?'' Robb spat out, trying his best to keep his hand from shaking.

He punched the table again and again as hard as he could, relishing in the pain it brought him, grief giving way to anger.

_Murderer._

_Traitor._

_Coward._

Theon put a hand on his shoulder, and Robb fell to his knees shaking.

''Damn him.. if the gods are just - the whole court was there, and yet not one of them made a move to help him,'' His breath hitched violently in his throat. ''May they all rot in the seven hells.'' 

_How could the gods ever have been just to let so much tragedy befall our family?_

''Treason?'' asked Jon quietly, his voice trembling.  ''What in the seven hells could have possessed him to believe that?'' 

''King Robert has summoned me to court. He demands that i travel to King's Landing and swear fealty to him. Only then will he forgive me for my father's supposed treason,'' The words tasted of bile in his throat, but he forced them out. ''He kills my father, and then he has the nerve to demand that i bend over like some common whore for him?'' 

_I would rather die._

''He dares?'' Jon spat it out like venom. He shook his head. ''This reeks of the Lannisters Robb. Father must have seen something, and they chose to stab him in the back before he could do anything about it.''

 _Not your father according to this._ Robb thought to himself hollowly.

''You must call your banners Robb, this demands blood. If they think they can get away with this,'' Theon interjected fiercely. ''Robert Baratheon has forfeited the right to rule the North after this.''

Robb clenched his fists. ''We will,'' he breathed, feeling like his throat was closing on itself. ''They pushed my brother out of a window, maiming him. Then they sent a catspaw to kill him, and now they've slain my father. And he expects me to swear him my undying loyalty? Let Robert Baratheon come north, and tell him that Winter is coming for him, Maester.'' Robb said, his voice low but steady. His hands were still shaking, and the paper with them.

''I'm with you Robb, now and always,'' said Theon fiercely, laying a hand on his shoulder. ''They will pay for this, i swear it.''

''So am i, and we will have vengeance i promise you, but what in the seven hells is he even accused of?'' Jon spat, shaking his head in disbelief. ''Plotting to overthrow the king? Who would ever believe our father to be capable of such?'' 

 _''Jon..''_ Robb tried, but somehow the words would not come out of his mouth.

Jon froze. ''There is something that you are not telling me,'' he said quietly, trying to meet Robb's eyes. ''By the gods Robb.. what is in that letter?''

_Because knowing this will bring you naught but pain.._

''Not now Jon, right now it will do you no good - it can wait Jon. I beg you,'' Robb pleaded quietly.

''You can't even meet my eyes,'' said Jon, his voice cold. ''I may not have been his trueborn son, but he was my father too. I deserve to know.''

Robb caught Jon's eyes briefly. They were hard and unyielding, the sorrow in them similar to his own.

Jon rushed forward, taking the parchment out of his hands. Robb did not even try to stop him.

_Fourteen years of supposed lies.. and how much more blood will be shed for them?_

With every word Jon read his expression seemed to become stonier.

''Lies.. this is naught but lies,'' Jon said hoarsely, shaking his head. ''The words of a man who has lost his mind, and nothing more.''

Robb shook his head angrily. ''The whole court was there Jon - there are witnesses, why would they lie?''

Jon turned on him furiously, his eyes narrowed to slits. ''He claims that Rhaegar Targaryen is my father. He claims that i was born of rape. He claims that Lord Eddard is not my father - and he has the nerve to tell us that our father was conspiring to put me on the Iron Throne? He must be as mad as Aerys, and you dare tell me you believe this - you?'' He hissed.

_Your grandfather.._

''I do not know what i believe Jon.. but i have heard it said that Robert Baratheon's hatred for the Targaryens is like a madness within him. What else could cause him to do this? Only the gods know how this must be like for you, but  _our_ father is dead. What matters right now is getting our sisters back from that  _monster,_ and nothing else _._ '' 

''He can claim what he damn well likes. I know that it is naught but lies. Father would not have lied to me - not about something like this. I Refuse to believe it,'' Jon answered, looking as pale as a ghost. He shook his head. ''No sane man would believe this.''

''Jon..'' Robb felt his breath catch in his throat as he collapsed into a chair, his head falling into his hands. ''Even if it should end up being true it makes no matter.. we will have vengeance all the same.''

''Vengeance?'' Jon laughed humorlessly. ''You are not the one father supposedly died for. The one that they claim is born of rape. The one who's bloody landed our family into this tragedy - our sisters hostage, the Riverlands aflame.. all according to this damned letter.'' he said before bolting from the room, slamming the door behind him.

No one made a move to stop him.

''Snow.. a Targaryen? Surely this is naught but lies?'' said Theon, sounding somber for once.

Robb slumped in his seat, glaring at Theon. ''Does it matter? By what fucking right do they execute my father over this? He did not even get a chance to defend himself. According to the damned letter he was slain, right after admitting to harbouring a dragonspawn. It says nothing more.. and he asks me to give him Jon? So that he can murder another member of my family? Who does he think he is? The North will never bow to House Baratheon again so long as i live.'' he spat.

_Let Robert Baratheon come, let Tywin Lannister, let them all come._

_''_ They have my sisters.. they have Sansa and Arya.'' he growled.

The thought of his sisters alone in the capital, with Cersei Lannister and Joffrey Baratheon, and all the others who had let his father die friendless and alone made his blood curl. 

_Why did no one help him?_

It felt painfully similar to the story of his uncle and grandfather that his father had told him once, and only once, because the pain was too much for him too bear.  _The king slew my father and no one batted an_  eyelid.  _Where was the chivalry of the south when Robert Baratheon's blade came for my father's throat?_

''You are here to advise me Maester Luwin.. advise me. My father is dead.. my mother has been declared an enemy of the crown and is on the run.. advise me.'' he demanded in a shaky voice.

The old grey maester stepped forward silently. ''Forgive me My Lord, but you are in need of allies, and the Targaryens still have many friends in the south.''

* * *

**The Little Bird**

The air was rich the smells of earth and leaf here. It reminded her of Winterfell. Of the North. She could feel the old gods eyes upon her, always watching, with a thousand eyes. She had always favored her mother's gods, yet what had they ever brought her but pain? She had dreamt of fair knights in shining armor. Chivalrous knights with bright eyes, whispering sweet words, like those in her stories, yet in the end that fantasy had been slain along with her father. She had thought the altars of The Seven more beautiful than a face carved in a tree.. yet Joffrey had been beautiful too, and the queen, Cersei. In the end something far more disturbing had been lurking beneath the beauty, but this was her place. Her father's place. Her family's place.

_Lady would have liked it here._

She knelt down, feeling the grass between her fingers.

''What do you pray for sweet girl?'' came a voice from behind her.

Sansa froze. She whirled, and felt the breath hitch in her throat.

A man stepped out of the shadows. A stout man in a heavy brown robe in roughspun, with cracked, mud-caked boots smelling of sweat, his face hidden by a cowl, hands drawn up into voluminous sleeves.

She tried to back away from the man, but he only stood there silently, watching her with a darkened gaze.

''W-who are you?'' she asked, gripping the knife that she had hidden under her cloak tightly.

''I have many names, and i am your friend Lady Stark, you need not fear me.'' The man's voice was low and deep.

She knew that voice from somewhere, though she could not place it.

''Step back.'' she said, drawing the knife, holding it in front of her with both hands.

''Are you going to stab me sweet child?'' he asked, drawing back his cowl.

Her breath hitched. ''Lord Varys.'' she murmured softly, lowering her knife.

Varys merely smiled at her. ''Not very fearsome am i? Have no fear sweet innocent lady Sansa, i am not here to harm you.''

 _My innocence died in that throne room My Lord_. She thought to herself, rubbing her stomach, where the angry purple bruise Ser Meryn had given her had faded to an ugly yellow.

She narrowed her eyes at him. ''What do you want from me?'' she asked warily, following his every move, still gripping the knife tightly.

Varys raised his hands in surrender. ''Only to help you.. to help you against those who have wronged you and your family.'' His voice was soft and inviting.

 _Could it be?_  

Though she did not believe in true knights anymore, some part of her childhood fantasies that still lingered prayed for one, to come and help her. To save her from the monsters,  _but Varys was no knight_.. and he was not to be trusted. Could this be one of Cersei's plans.. or Joffrey's? Another way to torment her? She would not give them the pleasure.

''I am loyal to my beloved Prince Joffrey and her grace Queen Cersei, my lord,'' she lowered her gaze to the ground. ''My family are traitors to the crown and nothing more.'' she said demurely, the wind pulling at her cloak.

_Though my loyalty is not worth much._

Varys merely shook his head, looking disappointed. ''Whom did i serve prior to Robert Baratheon Lady Sansa?''

Sansa furrowed her brows. ''You served The Mad King.. the man who killed my uncle and grandfather.''

Varys's gaze softened. ''It is a terrible thing to serve mad kings Lady Sansa, but i have always remained true to House Targaryen. When Tywin Lannister sacked King's Landing it was i who advised Aerys not to open the gates, not for the love i bore him but for the love i bore House Targaryen.. and just as it happens they now have an heir. An heir whom unlike Robert Baratheon is not mad.'' he said softly.

''Jon..? You wish to help him?'' She felt something like hope and desperation well up inside her.

C _ould it be true?_  Could Varys really wish to help her get back to her family? 

 _She_ could not contain her excitement. ''Please Lord Varys, i beg you.. take me away from this city. Take me home to Winterfell, i beg you.. help me get back to my family, and i will forever be grateful to you.'' She pleaded. Tears were welling up in her eyes at the thought of seeing her family.  _Oh how sweet it would be to see Robb, Jon, and my mother again._

Varys merely smiled sadly at her. ''It makes my heart grieve to watch you like this sweet child.. taken from your family by monsters like the Baratheons and Lannisters, but i am only the master of whisperers. I have no armies, no men to fight my battles.. alas i am only a man.''

And just like that her hopes were crushed once again. The gods were cruel to take it from her again and again. She was all alone it seemed. Arya who had disappeared right after the murder of their father..  _her little sister_.. her truest friend Jeyne, who had wanted to marry Lord Beric. Jeyne who had been perhaps even more innocent than she had, taken from her to never be seen or heard of again. They all seemed to disappear, for the crime of serving House Stark, and now she was the only thing in the capital left of her house, while her family were in the North. Were they preparing to march against Robert Baratheon even now as she prayed for them? She wondered.

_Will they come for me?_

_They will. If i allow myself to doubt it then i am lost._

She closed her eyes, her stomach tightening.

''I see,'' she breathed, heartbroken. ''What do you want from me then?'' she asked softly, trying to disguise the anger and desperation welling up inside her.

Varys shook his head sadly. ''I hope you will forgive me for giving you false hopes my lady, but i truly do wish to help you.. your brother and cousin are in a precarious position right now, with both the might of Storm's End and Casterly Rock marching upon them,'' he sighed. ''Meanwhile Lord Baelish has travelled to The Vale to bring them to his Grace's cause. And The Reach are stirring too, and they will not pick a side that stands no chance of winning.'' he spoke softly.

Sansa felt sick. This couldn't be happening. They were supposed to come for her. Surely there were still good men in the world? Why would they want to fight for him.. that  _monster_? The man who killed her father because he had protected the ones he loved? She could not understand.  _You stupid girl,_ some part hidden within her mind spoke up,  _There are no real knights, only monsters._

''Lysa Arryn is my aunt.. and Robb's.. she would not.. no.. she would not betray her own kin.'' she said fiercely, tears welling up in her eyes. She wiped them away angrily.

_My father considered Robert Baratheon a brother too for all the good it did him.._

Varys sighed heavily. ''I am afraid that your aunt is not of a sane mind right now.. she sees shadows on every wall, believing everyone of trying to harm her and her son. She will not lift a finger to come to the aid of your brother and cousin.. not even your mother. She fears the crown too much.'' he finished mournfully.

She could not hold back the tears that ran down her face now. They were all gonna die, and she would be a hostage here until the end of her days. It was not fair, all for the love a brother bore his sister and her son.

''But there is a way sweet girl.. do you want vengeance? For your father? You could not save him, but there is still a chance to save your family.''

Sansa turned her gaze to Varys, his eyes soft and understanding.

''I would do anything to help my family.'' she said, meaning it.

Varys nodded and sighed yet again. ''Even if it meant harming someone? Harming a monster to save your family? You need not do the deed yourself.. only help me make it happen so that we may avenge your father and put the rightful heir on the throne.''

Sansa flinched. Could she truly kill someone? The images of the monster taking her father's head flashed in front of her mind's eye. Joffrey's cruel taunts and beatings, the queen's mockery, and the court treating her as if she had the plague, laughing at her along with all the others, her father's head mounted on a spike for all the world to see.

Then Robb and Jon's faces swam to the forefront of her mind, their eyes dull and lifeless. '' _You could have saved us.''_ they whispered. _''We went to war for you.''_

 _Coward._ _Craven._ _Stupid, scared little bird._

 _''Maybe i'll give you your cousin's head all wrapped up in crimson like his brother Aegon's.''_  Joffrey's voice taunted her.

Her mother's face flashed in front of her, her usually kind blue eyes now hard and unyielding. _''Family, Duty, Honor.''_ she seemed to whisper.

She met Varys's gaze unflinchingly.

''I would do anything to protect my family.'' 

_I am a wolf, not a bird._

* * *

**The Young Wolf**

The snow was coming down heavy when he left the hall. Robb did not think he had ever felt so weary. Over the past couple of days he had been offered condolences from the entire castle, as well as people coming from near and far away to mourn the loss of his father. Rickon had been inconsolable, lashing out at everyone for leaving him. Robb was still not truly sure that he actually understood. Bran had been grieving as much as the rest of them, and yet both the boys claimed they had already known.. through dreams. Theon seemed to be grieving too, though he had spent most of his time by himself as well. Lord Stark they all called him now, and he was.. and yet even with all these people around him he he did not think he had ever felt so lonely. He had not talked to Jon since the day they had received the letter, and perhaps that was for the better. He did not know what he could possibly say to him. From what Robb knew Jon had been spending his time in the godswood alone, praying, but he was not there now and that meant that there was only one place he could be.

The guards around him all bowed their heads as he walked past them. ''Lord Stark.'' they greeted him.

_Lord Stark._

_My father is dead and i am the Lord of Winterfell._

In the courtyard banners were flapping in the wind, all around him. The battle-axe of the Cerwyns, who had arrived first, as well as the mailed fist of the Glovers, three sentinel trees for the Tallharts, a bull moose for the Hornwoods and Lady Mormont's black bear. There were still a few who had yet to arrive, namely the Boltons, Karstarks and Umbers - along with a few of his other bannermen who had yet to answer the call of their new liege lord.

 _They will come._ He thought to himself, trying to convince himself. _They must._

The castle was so full that it was soon fit to be bursting, yet to Robb it had never felt more empty.

The entrance to the crypts was in the oldest section of the castle, near the foot of the First Keep, which had sat unused for hundreds of years.  _The place where Bran fell_ , he thought to himself hollowly.  _An ill omen if there ever was one._

He slowly opened the door, revealing stone steps spiraling down into darkness.

The way down was narrow and steep, the steps worn in the center by centuries of feet. Strangely the air seemed to grow warmer during his descent. By the time he reached the bottom of the stairs he almost wanted to go back - back to the safe halls of Winterfell. Down the hall the empty tomb of his father would be waiting, and he did not wish to see it yet. If he did not see it - then maybe this would all just be nightmare he would be waking up from soon, his mother by his side. Sansa and Jeyne would be whispering about knights, while Jon and Theon practiced with him in the yard, with his father looking down on him proudly from above.

But this was no nightmare, and his father was no longer with them.

_He never will be again._

He pushed the door open, looking into the long vaulted tunnel in front of him, eyeing the long row of granite Starks sitting on their stone thrones. He could feel them staring down at him with their stone eyes - judging him, the hilts of their rusted longswords glinting in the darkness and firelight, stone direwolves curled around their feet. They were hard men his father had told him once.

 _They were the Kings of Winter, and_ during _winter only hard men survive._

 _Will they judge me for what i am about to do?_ He wondered, his footsteps echoing through the vault as he made his way through the rows of pillars.

At last he reached his destination and halted. The three tombs were closely grouped together, a boy of four and ten standing in front of one of the statues solemnly, staring fixedly at it. He did not seem to have noticed Robb's presence.

He stepped forward.

''Brother..'' he called out warily, walking over to Jon to stand next to him.

''Robb.'' Jon replied quietly, his gaze lingering on the stone statue of Lyanna Stark.

_His mother._

_My aunt._

A woman that his father had rarely spoken of, due to the grief it brought him, and yet her story was known all the same. Abducted and raped by Rhaegar Targaryen, the fair dragon prince, leading to a war that tore the realm apart. Leading to the death of the two stone statues carved beside hers, his grandfather and uncle.

Robb shifted awkwardly. ''How are you? We have not had a chance to talk since..'' he trailed off, feeling almost like an intruder.. _this is Jon's mother not mine._

Jon gave a shrug, his jaw clenched. ''Only now do i understand why father never told me. in truth it must have broken him to know what he did to her in that tower, and yet all the same he found it in his heart to raise me as his son and love me - despite what i am. And it makes me wonder.. did my mother love me? I grieve for him i do Robb, and yet that is all my mind keeps coming back to. I killed her - not willingly, but all the same i killed her.. after everything he had done to her, and all i keep wondering is whether she felt revulsion or love at the sight of me, when she held me in her arms for the very first time.'' Jon finished quietly.

Robb closed his eyes.

_It is not fair. Robert Baratheon has torn apart my family one way or another._

''I used to dream of her you know. I'd wonder where she was, and i'd wonder whether or not she knew about me. I used to wonder what she would have looked like, whether she had big eyes or small eyes, whether she had hard eyes or kind eyes - grey eyes like my own or some other color? I used to wonder who she had been. Some highborn girl.. or some serving wench that he had chanced upon during the rebellion? And i would ask myself why he had left her.. and i would think to myself that she must have been something dark or dishonorable, because why else would he? Some whore.. some adulteress. Why else would he be so ashamed to speak of her?''

Robb could not bring himself to speak.

''And it makes sense now.. doesn't it?'' Jon asked, his voice so bitter that Robb nearly flinched from the sound of it. ''He was never ashamed to speak of my mother - instead it brought him nothing but grief to speak of her, and it is a tale that we have all heard a hundred times, spoken in hushed whispers, memories that will never fade. The same tale that is the very reason why the word  _Targaryen_ is spoken with such venom in the North.. and that man.. the very reason why the word is spoken with such hatred..'' Jon closed his eyes, his jaw tightening. ''That man is my father..''

Robb had frozen, still as stone. He felt vaguely ill. ''The letter Jon - it claims they were wed.'' he said quietly.

Jon turned to look at him for the first time, his face pale and his eyes hollow. ''By force.'' he said sharply.

Robb shook his head. ''And why do you believe Robert Baratheon - the man who slew our father, without even giving him a chance to defend himself? If our father told him differently do you think he would have believed him? He has raised the banners of Storm's End and Casterly Rock alike, marching to war.. against you. Would he have done that if he really believed that you were no threat to him? It was Robert Baratheon who claimed that she was abducted and raped in the first place, do not forget that. The Targaryen loyalists always claimed that they ran away out of love. Yet our father never said anything, does that not tell you anything?''

''It tells me nothing. Say they did run away out of love - does it matter? They still caused the realm to bleed for their foolishness - a foolishness that i was the fruit of,'' he closed his eyes. ''And my father,'' he hissed the last word as if it was a curse, his gaze darkening. ''He left her there to die in that tower alone.''

''Lord Eddard Stark was your father, the man who raised you,'' said Robb fiercely, gripping Jon's shoulder tightly, meeting his eyes. ''Whoever Rhaegar Targaryen was - whether he was good or cruel, he was not the man who loved you like a son and cared for you like one,'' he paused, shaking his head slightly. ''It does not truly matter what happened, but what i do know is that you must not blame yourself Jon. You are not to blame for the sins of others.'' he finished quietly, his voice lowering.

Jon merely looked at him with pity, his eyes slightly unnerving. ''It doesn't matter anymore. I can make it right again, and i will. I will take the black like i intended to in the first place. Arya and Sansa will be returned home safely, and there will be no threat to the seven kingdoms. I will not let thousands of men die for me. There has been enough bloodshed already.''

Robb shook his head in disbelief. ''And do you truly believe that the king will just let you go like that - forget about you? The first thing he will do once he hears about you taking the black is to send hired knives for you. You will wake up one night, with some old man standing above you, desperate for gold, or some young man trying to feed his family, and you will be stabbed to death, and it will be me having to bury you, with nothing to show for it. Do you truly believe that he will merely give us back our sisters? After killing our father? They will be held as hostages till the day they die, to ensure our loyalty to the crown. There is only one way we are getting our sisters back, and that is with swords and banners. There is no other way Jon. Do you understand?''

Jon hesitated for a second, but then he nodded, his face weary and solemn. ''If that is what it takes, then i will stand behind you like i always have.''

''No.'' said Robb, feeling his breath hitch slightly in his throat. ''I will stand behind you.''

Jon merely looked confused before the realization of what Robb was implying finally hit him, and his eyes widened in fury.

''No. I will not - you cannot make me wear that man's banner. The banner of my grandfather who roasted my other grandfather and uncle alive? Do you want your lords to turn on us and hang us from the nearest keep? The North bears the dragon no love, and nor do i.''  

Robb shook his head, though he did not disagree with Jon's words. Already lords had been subtly asking him about Jon, and he had seen the cold glares they directed at him when he wasn't looking. It had left a dull ache inside him.

''The North is too weak to stand alone against the rest of the Seven Kingdoms. We have received ravens from my uncle Edmure, pleading for help. Ravens have been sent to The Vale, but Maester Luwin has told me that he does not expect them to come to our aid. Aerys may have been mad, it is true.. but you are his heir. Aegon the Conqueror, and Jaehaerys the Wise's heir. The heir to the Iron Throne, and there are houses in the South that will flock to our banner due to that.''

Jon merely looked at him, his eyes hard. ''I have no claim to it, you and i both know it to be true,'' he shook his head, his eyes resting on a spot further down the hallway. ''Baratheon took the throne by conquest. Whatever claim the Targaryens once had to the throne is long since gone.''

''But you do. The only reason they gave Robert the throne in the first place, was due to him being the closest remaining heir to the Iron Throne with Viserys having fled across the Narrow Sea, and his grandmother being Rhaelle Targaryen. Of course that was merely convenient, but it does not matter. You have a stronger claim than he does. And what do you imagine will happen once we kill him? That we will hand the crown over to that brat Joffrey, and that everyone will live out their days in peace and prosperity? he paused. ''No. The ties between House Stark and Baratheon have been severed, and they will not be mended again. They will  _never_  rule over us again.'' he paused. ''But you could.. never mind your claim, you are half Stark and half Targaryen. A Stark would sit the Iron Throne in all but name, a Stark raised by Lord Eddard Stark, a man of honor. The Northern lords will have to see the wisdom in that.''

_I can only pray that they do._

Jon's gaze softened. ''All i've ever wanted was to be a Stark. Like you, like Bran, Rickon and the rest of them..'' he paused, his gaze again fixed on the statue. ''We can't let any harm come to them Robb.''

''You are a Stark Jon,'' Robb cut him off. ''Rhaegar's seed or not, Lord Eddard Stark was your father, and you are my brother. Some words written on a piece of paper does not change that, and it never will.''

Jon seemed to almost smile at that.

They walked back the same way they had come from in silence, their footsteps ringing off the stones and echoing in the vault overhead as they walked among the dead of House Stark. The snow was still pouring down when they  emerged from the crypts.

Walking through the courtyard Robb wondered what his mother would say, it pained him, but he could not allow himself to think of it.

_She will understand. She has to._

He tried to convince himself that he was right, but somehow the thought remained a hollow one.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot of angst in here, though given the circumstances i felt like it was needed. :c  
> The next chapter will be from Jon's pov regarding the Northern Lords etc.
> 
> Will write something from Catelyn's pov too soon, her thoughts on Jon etc.


	5. Loyalty

**The Bastard Of Winterfell**

A north wind had begun to blow by the time the sun went down. Jon could hear it skirling outside the great hall, like some great roaring beast wanting to devour them all. Around the trestle tables in the great hall the North's nobility was seated, though the mood was somber for a feast. Jon felt more like a caged animal than a host, and Robb was not sporting one of his usual smiles either. The Karstarks had been the last to arrive, bringing near three hundred horsemen and near two thousand foot from their castle at Karhold.  _Twelve thousand men all in all._ And more were waiting to join them along the Kingsroad, barrow knights as well as the Flints and the Manderlys. The North was preparing to march.

He had been given the place of honor at his brother's right hand, though it did not feel much like an honor. Robb sat in grey wool, trimmed with white, the Stark colors, yet Jon wore no colors or sigil displaying his allegiance. Most of the lords were giving him queer looks - some of them not even bothering to hide their hostility, shooting him pointed glares whenever he caught their gaze.

 _Do they blame me for my father and grandfather's sins?_ He absently wondered.  _Do they think me scared to face my demons?_

 _They must think me a craven_. He realized. He had spent most of the time since the letter came in the Godswood, alone, by himself. He had hardly spoken to anyone, preferring to spend his time in solace with Ghost. 

He was not sure how much any of it could hurt him anymore.

_Let them think what they want to think._

_My real father died in King's Landing, butchered by a madman - my mother broken and alone in some tower in Dorne. It does not truly matter anymore._

His attention moved to Robb who had cleared his throat. Jon was trying to keep himself composed, but he couldn't help but feel vaguely ill. He did not think he had ever felt so uncomfortable. _This is not my place._ He thought to himself briefly, before pushing the thought angrily away. 

''My Lords,'' Robb's voice was clear and loud as he addressed the hall. ''You all know why you are here. My father,  _your_  liege lord, Eddard Stark, has been murdered in cold blood by Robert Baratheon,'' he paused, his gaze flickering across the room. ''The Lannisters maimed my younger brother Brandon - after we welcomed them into our home as guests. After we shared our bread and salt with them. And once they realized that the fall had not killed him, they sent a catspaw to make sure he would never live to breathe another word of their treachery again,'' His face was grim, and his eyes were hard as he spoke. ''For these crimes neither House Baratheon nor Lannister will ever rule the North again so long as there is a Stark in Winterfell. When they took my father's head they forfeited the right to rule us. The Riverlands are with us, and hopefully soon other houses will be-''

''Other houses?'' Roose Bolton cut him off, in that eerily quiet voice of his, his pale blue eyes focused on Robb. ''Forgive me My Lord, but i was not aware that any of the other great houses would be fighting with us? What cause could they possibly have to rebel against their king?''

Robb's jaw tightened. ''There are many houses who have yet to declare for anyone. Neither Robert Baratheon, nor any of his kin will sit the Iron Throne again once this war is over, not if i have any say in it. I will not bend my knee to them ever again - not after all the grief that they've caused my family. We will be in need of a new king, someone with a strong claim to the Iron Throne-''

Jon could feel himself tense, his breath catching in his throat.

''Stop mincing words and say what ever it is that you mean to say boy,'' Robett Glover interrupted him. ''Do you take us for fools? You sit that  _boy_ next to you and expect us to pretend that you have done so out of kindness?'' 

''And what of that boy's family's crimes against yours My Lord?'' asked Lord Rickard Karstark, scowling up at Robb, his voice full of undisguised loathing. ''Or have you forgotten?''

 _Lord Eddard Stark was my father._ Jon wanted to say, but he knew that none of them would want to hear it. His throat felt dry - he made himself take another sip of wine.

He wanted to speak up, yet some part hidden deep inside him, the part used to hide in the shadows whenever a feast was held forbade him to do so.

_''I want the bastard out of sight, lest he might shame me even more than he already does Ned.''_

_This is not your place._ Voices seemed to whisper all around him. _You are no king._

He was reminded of the last feast he had been to, seated among squires, far from the main table, Lord Eddard Stark's shame hidden from view. They had been hosting another King then.. Robert Baratheon.

_The man who put both my fathers to the sword._

It was both a queer and depressing thought.

''Jon was raised by Eddard Stark, your liege lord, who i may remind you Robert Baratheon has murdered, and with that murder greatly offended the North. It is said that he plotted with my lady mother to overthrow the king, and place Jon on the throne in his stead. Any man who knew Eddard Stark will know this to be naught but vile lies, and if you do not believe it to be so, then i dare you to step forward. No man in this hall will further drag my father's name through the mud. Jon's last name makes no matter to me. My father raised him as his own son, and loved him like one. He ended up  _dying_  for that love, and it is in Jon's name that we will have our vengeance,'' Robb smiled slightly, though it was strained, and nor was his voice as confident as it had been at first. ''The Manderlys are with us too, and though they are not here today they have already declared for their new  _king_.'' 

''Southeners.'' spat someone along the benches. Jon thought it might have been one of Rickard Karstark's sons, but could not be sure. The hall was filled to the brim.

 _Among House Stark's most powerful and loyal vassals. And what has Wyman Manderly demanded in turn for his swords?_ He wondered.

The Northern Lords remained silent.

Jon felt the breath hitch in his throat. Something rubbed against his leg beneath the table. Eerie red eyes were staring up at him, and he found himself absently running a hand through the direwolf's fur.

Lord Jon Umber stood up. ''Aye. Eddard Stark was a man of honor. I fought beside him, just like most of you here, during the rebellion - to  _avenge_  his father and brother, and to save Lyanna Stark. To avenge them against that boy's grandfather,'' he said, pointing a finger at Jon. ''The same man who burned your grandfather Rickard Stark alive with wildfire. Yet now i can't help but wonder whether any of us truly knew Eddard Stark at all?'' he said, looking around the hall. ''Because the man i thought i knew loved his sister too damn much to ever harbour this abomination - born of what that monster did to her,'' he spat, his voice filled with disgust. ''Your uncle Brandon would have beat his brother half to death had he known.'' 

''Aye. Are you mocking us?'' asked Roger Ryswell, shaking his head in disbelief. ''Surely this is a jest and nothing more.''

Murmurs of assent rumbled through the assembled lords of the North.

_Enough._

_They speak of me as if i'm not here._

''You have no right..'' Said Jon, rising from his seat shakily, staring down at Lord Umber who stood as tall as Hodor and twice as wide, but Jon didn't care. The edge of his vision blurred with rage.

The Greatjon's eyes widened fit to bulging, and he flung his goblet at Jon, who had to move sideways to avoid it crashing into him. Some of the guards moved their hands to the pommel of their swords, but Robb held up a hand to still them.

_The laws of gods and men are sacret to all of us, yet half the men in this hall yearn for bloodshed one way or another._

''And who are you to tell me that boy?'' he asked, his hands trembling with fury. ''We fought to rid the realm of your family, and now your cousin means to rise you up again - to rule over us once again, like the tyrants that your ancestors were. Pray tell, Lord Stark.. or you Jon Snow - Targaryen, whatever it is that your name is. What did we fight for? Your father put the North at risk for years by harboring that boy. And i will never say that what Robert Baratheon did was just - believe me i hold no love for that man, but all the same i honestly am not sure i can say that i ever knew Eddard Stark.. not after this.'' 

Jon gazed around the hall, trying to keep his anger from flaring. _He has no right._

''How many here have lost kin fighting against the Targaryens and their ilk?'' Lord Umber asked, looking around the hall. ''My uncle lost both his sons fighting at the Battle of the Trident,'' he spat. ''Fighting against  _your father_  and his armies. Fighting against  _Targaryens_. Fighting against  _Dragonspawn_.'' he continued, kicking over a table in his wroth.

Cley Cerwyn stood up at that, grimacing. ''Lord Umber, i have known Jon since we were children, and he is no more of a dragon than i am, regardless of who truly fathered him,'' he shook his head, looking nervous but determined. Jon felt a sense of gratefulness towards the younger boy. ''The boy is a Stark to the bone, with Ned Stark's honor, not that of a dragon's. You do him an injustice by speaking of things you know little about. Have you ever even laid eyes upon him until this very day?''

The Greatjon's eyes narrowed at that, his right hand lowering to the hilt of his sword. ''I was fighting wars while you were still sucking on your mother's teats boy. Do not presume to think that you can tell me what i can or cannot say,'' he spat on the ground - before turning his eyes towards Jon. ''In the North a man earns his bannerman's loyalty, not the other way around - and i can assure you that no dragon will ever have mine.''

''Aye. I too have lost kin to the dragons,'' snapped Robett Glover, rising to his feet. ''Ethan Glover, slain by men protecting you, and now you wish me to simper and bow before you like some tavern slut?''

_What i want is Robert Baratheon's head on a spike. What i want is to have my sisters safe, back in Winterfell._

''My uncle was a good man.. and i will not hear you tell lies about him,'' said Jon hoarsely, the words sticking in his throat like poison, choking him. He looked around the hall, but there was little to no pity in any of their eyes. ''You speak of my grandfather Aerys.. and believe me when i say that there is no love for him in my heart, only shame and regret. He was a  _monster_ i do not deny it, and never will. You speak of my father.. Rhaegar Targaryen, and yet i do not know him, nor do i think did any of you. I do not know what he did or didn't do, nor do i know what kind of man he was, but i will not ask your forgiveness. Those are his sins, and not mine. You speak of them as monsters.. and maybe they are, yet you all bent the knee to the man who's goodfather butchered my brother and sister. My brother - a boy barely one years old, his head bashed against the wall until there was nothing but a bloody pulp left of it. My sister, stabbed a hundred times while her mother was being raped behind her - she was only three. A little girl, innocent of any crimes her father or grandfather had committed. They say that Robert Baratheon seemed pleased when my siblings were laid out in front of him, wrapped up in Lannister crimson.  _Justice_  he called it. They were only Dragonspawn after all.. same as me,'' Jon grit out, his hands shaking beneath the table. ''Did you name it justice too Lord Umber? Did you smile when the news reached you from the capital?''

The Greatjon bristled, his eyes were on Jon, narrowed and dark. ''I am no child murderer Snow.''

''Maybe not,'' Jon nodded grimly, his fists clenched. ''Yet when they speak of Aerys's crimes.. Rhaegar's crimes - they rarely mention the crimes committed against my brother and sister. Innocent children, not to blame for the sins of their family. They wipe it under the rug as if it was something that they would rather not acknowledge, something dark, best hidden in the shadows where noone may seek it out. Men eat, share mead and share jests with Robert Baratheon. I'm sure that you have done so yourself in the wars that you've fought with him,'' he paused for a moment, letting the words sink in. ''Did you care at all then? I know Eddard Stark did.. and i know that is why he raised me as his bastard son, lest i should have ended up suffering the same fate as my brother Aegon. And yet you all sit here and judge me for it? Judge him? For what? For loving and protecting a motherless child? His sister's son? You have no right.''

The Greatjon hesitated, and was about to reply when Stout grey-haired Maege Mormont, dressed in mail like a man stood up, clearing her throat.

''Aye,'' she replied, her brown eyes boring into Jon's. ''No one here denies that The Sack of King's landing was a heinous crime,'' continued Lady Mormont, while Lords around the tables voiced their agreement. ''Yet that is not what we are here to speak about. Might be you'll even make a good king, but why should the North bleed for you? Vengeance for Eddard Stark i can understand. To save his daughters i can understand. He was a man loved by most of us, though i find it strange that he hid the truth from all of us, despite the repercussions that we are now seeing. Whether it is Robert Baratheon or the Targaryen loyalists whom lie concerning Lyanna Stark i do not know, and in truth it does not matter. You have a claim as good as any i suppose, but the Greatjon speaks true - there are few of us who wish to be ruled by a Targaryen again. Your family has brought naught but ruin and tragedy to the North. Targaryens are not to be trusted. Every man and woman here knows it to be true.. so why should we follow you? Why should any man or woman here want to risk their lives for you?''

''And who would you rather rule us then? A Baratheon or a Lannister?'' Robb growled. ''The war has already begun in the Riverlands. Tywin Lannister marches a host of fifteen thousand men towards Harrenhal. Lords Vance and Piper have been smashed by the Kingslayer's host of fifteen thousand men beneath the Golden Tooth - Lord Vance slain, Lord Piper fled back to Riverrun. The Kingslayer and his men are marching towards Riverrun as we speak.. marching towards my family.. and yet we sit here squabbling about crimes that Jon has naught to do with. Jon is Lyanna Stark's son, the blood of House Stark - raised by Eddard Stark himself, his son in all but name. You wish to know why you should declare for my brother? A Stark King would sit the throne in all but bloody name. A northerner, caring about northern values - caring about what is important to  _us -_ caring about what is important To  _the North_.''

''To the few of you who's loyalty i find to be wavering..'' Robb continued, shooting a wary glance towards Lord Umber and Ryswell. ''You have all sworn an oath to House Stark. Will you allow Winterfell to stand alone while Robert Baratheon ravages through the North - sacks our castles, and rapes our women? Will you stand aside when it's our own people that the Lannisters put to the sword? Northerners, like yourself - the men, women and children who look to us for protection? The ones who look to us to serve them justice, to protect them from those who would wish them harm?''

Some Lords bristled at the accusations, yet a few looked shamed. The hall remained silent.

''When Tywin Lannister sacked King's Landing half the women in the city had bastards in their bellies come the morning. Children were slain, and smallfolk beat to death. Thousands of innocents were murdered.  _Innocents_. Do you think Robert Baratheon and Tywin Lannister will give you any other sort justice? Will you cower behind your walls while the likes of Gregor Clegane put our smallfolk to the sword?'' He shook his head in disgust. ''My father always told me that Northerners were the fiercest warriors in Westeros. Tell me my lords, were his words true?'' he paused, his gaze flickering to Lord Umber. ''And for those of you that do mean to break faith then then know this - once we have dealt with Houses Baratheon and Lannister we will march back North, root you out of your keeps and hang you for oathbreakers.'' 

Jon could see Lord Cerwyn shifting uncomfortably, while the usually jovial Lord Hornwood was staring at his plate. Lord Ryswell choked on his wine in anger and Lord Bolton's expression as usual revealed nothing. Murmurs ran along every table.

Along the walls the flames flickered and swayed. The hall seemed to grow darker and colder. By the corner Hallis Mollen moved a hand to the hilt of his sword.

Roger Ryswell slammed a fist upon the table, spilling several goblets. ''You would name us oathbreakers for not siding with a Targaryen?'' he spat. ''A boy of the same ilk as Aerys The Mad King?''

''The others take you boy. I will not have my honour questioned by a boy as green as piss. Do you take me for a craven?'' Roared the Greatjon.

Lord Karstark rose as well, his face grim. ''Aye. What wars have you fought in boy? We are kin you and i, Stark and Karstark, and i respected your father. I still do.. curse me, even after this revelation, but you are naught to us. The only reason that i am even hearing you out is because of Eddard Stark. I'm old enough to be your father boy, and yet you sit here and chastise me - while looking like some southern whore?'' 

Grey Wind moved forward, baring his teeth in threat. The Greatjon eyed the direwolf warily, but did not back down. Beneath the table he could feel Ghost tensing, his teeth bared in a silent snarl.

''Then do your duty to your  _liege lord_ , your duty to your  _king,_ '' Robb rose from his seat, his fists clenched in anger. ''Are you really of the belief that he never told us? We have all known for years. My father did tell the truth.. to his family. Robert Baratheon's stories are naught but lies - lies to hide the humilation of Lyanna Stark choosing another man over him. You all sit here and speak of things you know little to nothing about. You know damn well why my father kept the truth hidden. His head now rests on a spike in King's Landing because of it!'' Robb bellowed, his voice thick with grief and anger.

Jon knew what Robb was doing..  _for our sisters_  .. yet somewhere deep inside it felt like betrayal.

_It is not his mother.. he has no right.._

He clenched his fists beneath the table.

''My father never meant to raise Jon as king, only to protect him from those who would wish him harm, like his mother wanted him to. I've seen the looks you give him. Many of you can't stand the sight of him due to who his father is, but i want you to know that the words spread by Robert Baratheon are lies and nothing more. You want to judge my father? Then let me ask you - what would you have done? Drowned your nephew in a river for the sins of his grandfather? No man is as accursed as the kinslayer, and a babe is not to blame for the sins of his ancestors, so tell me true - would you have?'' asked Robb, the tone of his voice as hard as iron.

Many of the northern lords looked away, some of them glared back at him, yet none of them spoke.

_There will never be an end to this. None of them want me for their king, yet they are all wary of the price of betrayal._

Slowly, Jon pushed himself to his feet, on the inside he was shivering, yet he held himself straight, while their attention shifted to him.

 _Win them to your cause._  Robb had told him.

''My Lords.'' he began quietly, trying to sound more confident then he felt. ''I was raised in the North, and i have lived here my whole life. I worship the same gods as you do, the Old Gods of the North. I am the blood of the first men, same as you my lords. Despite my last name i am a Northener. I am the blood of the wolf as much as i am the blood of the dragon. I will not demand your allegiance, but let me tell you this; Right now Tywin Lannister marches on the Riverlands with thirty thousand battle hardened men, and from Storm's End we have received news of twenty five thousand men gathering beneath the banner of Robert Baratheon,'' he paused, letting the words sink in. ''We are in need of allies.. this.. this is a war we cannot win alone - even with the Rivermen on our side they outnumber us greatly. You wish to know what i can offer you? Through the name Targaryen i shall give you The Reach itself. I shall give you the swords of Tyrell, the shields and maces of Tarly, The fleet of Redwyne, along with Fossoway arrows and Rowan lances. I shall deliver you the spears of Dorne, with a promise of vengeance for my dead brother and sister.'' said Jon, feeling bile rise in his throat with every lie he spoke, yet a few of the lords were nodding, now looking at him with interest.

_Liar._

_You will bring them nothing but ruin._

_To save my sisters._

_Playing our roles._

''And when i take the Iron Throne - when we save my sisters,  _Eddard Stark's daughters_ , it shall be you who reap the benefits,'' Jon continued, his voice growing sharper. ''The North, the first lords to declare for my cause - the first to name me their  _King_. Your loyalty will not be forgotten, i can promise you that. During the Dance of Dragons a pact was made between House Targaryen and House Stark. My father's family never honored that pact, but i will. A daughter of mine and a son of Robb's will be joined in marriage one day, that i can promise you,'' His eyes moved around the hall. ''When i take the Iron Throne the North will no longer remain hidden in the shadows. And i will give you justice - justice for your liege lord Eddard Stark, my father in all but name, slain unjustly by an unworthy king. My grandfather may have been mad, it is true, but madness is an illness of the mind. Robert Baratheon does not have that excuse. He is a  _murderer_  and nothing more. Name me your king, and allow me to bring him to justice,'' he paused for a moment. ''I will bring justice to the North. I swear it by the old gods and the new.'' said Jon quietly, but with a firm voice, feeling like a mummer's dragon in wolf's clothing.

W _ords are wind and many a promise has been made only to be broken later.._

Silence reigned in the hall.

Lady Maege was the first to step forward. ''House Mormont has always kept faith with House Stark, and will continue to do so, but If what you say is true.. that you swear to put the North's interest first, then i will name you my king as well, and follow you as loyally as my liege lord does.''

''Aye,'' Lord Medger Cerwyn agreed. ''I hold little love for the Targaryens, but if my son tells it true then Jon Snow is more wolf than a dragon. Seven hells take a look at the boy and any man who knew Eddard and Lyanna Stark will see which blood flows through his veins. I for one would not mind a wolf sitting on the Iron Throne.'' he finished, raising his goblet in a toast.

''The oath of a dragon. The oath of the grandson of Aerys,'' the Greatjon growled, before storming from the hall in rage. And when Hallis Mollen moved to the door to restrain him the Greatjon flung him across the floor like he was no bigger than Rickon.

_Seven hells._

''Aye. Those are all pretty words Your Grace,'' said Lord Ryswell, with subtle mockery. ''But us northerners have trusted Targaryens before, and been taken for fools.'' he gave a disgusted shake of his head, before following the Greatjon out the door.

Robett Glover said nothing, yet he left all the same, while his brother Galbart stared down at the floor.  _In shame or anger?_  Jon did not know.

Jon met Lord Bolton's eyes, yet the man appeared as cold and impassive as always. He seemed to have no intention of leaving. Strangely enough Jon was not sure that pleased him.

Robb's narrowed eyes followed them warily out the door, while scratching an agitated Grey Wind behind the ear.

Lord Karstark's face was grim, and for a moment he seemed to be considering whether to follow them out of the door or not, but then instead he rose slowly.

''You speak of loyalty to the North Jon Snow, and might be you even speak true, but words are wind Your Grace,'' He gave Jon a shrewd look. ''But there is a way to prove your loyalty,'' he continued. ''My daughter Alys is of an age with you. It is my belief that you may have danced with her, years ago at a feast right here in this very hall. Wed her and you may prove that your loyalty lies with The North, rather than the dragon.'' Lord Rickard's voice was gruff and loud, and the hall remained silent.

Jon could vaguely see Lord Hornwood and his son Daryn glowering at Lord Karstark through the corner of his eye.

He could feel Robb tense beside him, though it took him a moment to finally find his voice.

''We are marching to war Lord Karstark. If you wish to speak of betrothals we may discuss it on the morrow. I am sure we can come to some kind of an agreement, and the same applies to you Lord Hornwood.'' said Robb, his voice sharp and unyielding, though there was a hint of a promise in it.

Lord Karstark nodded gruffly, though there was a hungry gleam in his eyes.

Lord Halys merely smiled, all emnity forgotten.

_Another sacrifice._

''A wolf on the Iron Throne?'' a smile tugged at the corner of Lord Halys's lips. ''I'll drink to that Your Grace. Lord Robb's words are true. A northerner sitting on the Iron Throne will be nothing but a benefit to all of us,'' he laughed, wringing his hands. ''Too long have we been ignored by the Southerners - no more. You know when i first saw you i thought of Eddard Stark, but i can see your mother in you too. She was a good woman your mother, and beautiful too i dare say.''

''My mother?'' Jon's breath caught slightly in his throat. ''You knew her?'' He felt something warm tug at his insides.

Lord Hornwood nodded solemnly. ''Aye, Your Grace. If you would like me to, I would be glad to speak to you of her. I'm sure that many of us here have stories about her. She was wild and fierce like your uncle Brandon, that girl. A true wolf if i may say so myself.''

Jon could not find it in himself to care what the man's intentions were. He nodded, feeling his throat close in on itself. ''I would be very grateful, my lord.''

''The Greatjon and the others will take to their wits soon Your Grace. The North Remembers, but they will soon know you for the man that you are, and not the men that your ancestors were.'' said Clay Cerwyn, grinning up at him.

Jon nodded warily, feeling like there was ice in his veins.

_And if they do not.._

The feast continued for a while after that, though whether the mood was more somber or joyful than it had been at the start of the feast Jon could not tell, there few smiles and few japes. It continued with lords demanding the honor of battle command, hunting rights and lands they believed they held a claim to. Robb seemed wary the whole time and answered them all as coolly as their father would have done.

When they finally managed to excuse themselves Jon could feel himself walking towards his bedchamber in a daze.

_I'm only a mummer's dragon in wolf's clothing._

_A king without loyalty is no king at all._

He slumped against the wall in his bedchamber, hands on his knees.

He could not tell how long he had been sitting there when Robb entered, whether it had been hours or mere minutes.

''May the Old Gods take mercy on us all..'' said Robb, his face pale and shaken - the cool courtesy completely gone.

Jon sat up warily. ''Robb?''

''Did you see the way the Greatjon threw hallen across the floor? Like he weighed nothing at all.'' he said, shaking his head in disbelief while pacing across the floor.

''I should have done something.. i shouldn't have let them walk out of there.. though i knew i couldn't - attack him for defending his kin? When several others lost family and friends to the Mad King? Half the lords in the hall would have wanted my head for that.'' said Robb, shivering, whether from the cold or fear Jon was not sure.

Jon shook his head. ''The Manderlys and the Karstarks's support will keep them from doing anything stupid.''

''The Umbers have always been fiercely loyal to House Stark.. yet now - and Roose Bolton sits there - he doesn't say a word, but all the same. That man makes my skin crawl Jon, and whenever his eyes find mine own all i can think about is that secret room the Boltons are said to have in that castle of theirs.. where the flayed skins of their enemies are supposed to be hanging. Gods.. if Rickard Karstark had walked out along with the rest of them i honestly don't know what i would have done..'' he paused, stepping closer to the fire. ''I hold no love for Tywin Lannister, but he was right about one thing. A Lord with vassals who can openly defy him in front of the rest of his vassals is no true lord at all.''

Jon felt a shiver run down his spine. ''You heard Cley. The Greatjon will take to his wits soon.. and the Ryswells will follow Roose Bolton. Northerners are loyal, they won't turn their cloak - not because of something like this.''

_I will end up getting not just my father, but my entire family murdered if this continues any further.._

''Will he?'' Robb spat, his eyes flashing briefly. ''The way they see things.. gods Jon - the way they speak about you, one would think that you'd murdered their entire families by yourself,'' he continued, clenching his fists in anger. '' _The North Remembers,_ '' Robb gave a bitter laugh. ''The first and last time in my life i'll ever curse their bloody memory..''

Jon could not help but tense.

''Mayhaps you could name his son the Smalljon to your Kingsguard.. that might soften the man up.'' said Robb in jest, after a moment of silence.

Jon snorted. ''Aye.. though most like he will take it as an insult and have me flung off the ramparts - gods Robb, the man loathes me.''

Robb nodded. ''Aye. He does, i will not deny it, though from what i know of the Umbers they are no schemers. Some of my bannermen might never grow to love you in truth, but as long as they fight for us we must accept that. We cannot afford to make any more enemies now, not when we already have so many.''

''And Lord Karstark?'' Jon asked dryly, finding it hard not to smile as Robb's eyes flickered to some other spot in the room.

Robb blushed slightly. ''I will wed his daughter if that is what it takes to secure his support. We need the North united, and with both the Manderlys and Karstarks supporting us none of the other houses will be strong enough to rebel.''

''Lady Alys is a pretty girl. You could do a lot worse than her brother - why i might even accept Lord Karstark's purposal for myself..'' said Jon, smiling.

Robb chuckled lightly. ''That might have had something to do with it yes, but we both know that you know you must be saved for the hand of another.''

Jon raised an eyebrow at that.

_How subtle._

''And Lord Hornwood too. His son Daryn was supposed to wed her, and he will take that for a slight, you know it as well as i do. So now i must make up for it, and you know that he will demand either Sansa and Arya for his son, '' Robb shook his head. ''The man has already been begging me for land, hunting rights and what not.'' 

Jon hesitated.

''We cannot bargain them away like that.. like mere sheep - only the gods know what they're going through right now..'' he trailed off, his voice low.

''No,'' agreed Robb. ''We cannot, but the truth is that - is that we do not know whether we will ever see them again..'' his voice choked slightly, his breath faint and strangled. ''And yet we need the strength of House Hornwood as much as we need the other houses.''

_We will see them again._

''What news from the Vale?'' asked Jon after a moment, growing uncomfortable with the silence that followed.

Robb frowned, releasing a weary sigh. ''Our father was much loved in the Vale, but so was Robert Baratheon. And then there's this - Elbert Arryn, heir to the Vale, murdered by Aerys himself along with our uncle Brandon and Kyle Royce. Denys Arryn, adored in the Vale from what Maester Luwin tells me, slain at the Battle of Bells by Jon Connington himself, your grandfather's hand of the king. Most like we will find no compassion there, regardless of my kinship to Lysa Arryn.''

Jon felt a sinking feeling in his stomach.

''Aye..'' said Robb wearily, noticing Jon's frown. ''Might be they'll even think of joining up with Robert Baratheon.''

Jon shook his head in disbelief. ''This is madness Robb, we should have made you king - by the gods.. how are we ever gonna win this war?''

_Half of Westeros will want me slain for all the grief Aerys caused._

_My grandfather._

The thought still sent shivers down his spine.

''Is that so?'' Robb gave a bitter laugh, his eyes flashing briefly. ''The North can hardly gather twenty thousand men at such short notice, and once we reach the Riverlands how many swords will we have about us then? Thirty thousand, thirty five? Maester Luwin tells me that the Riverlanders are fickle people. Half the lords are as powerful as eachother, and my grandfather is no Tywin Lannister.'' he explained, his voice quiet and withdrawn. ''No.. the odds would have been against us from the start, facing an army twice our size. And should The Reach.. or even most of the Crownslands join them we would already have lost,'' he paused. ''No, it has to be you brother. And we will have to try and reach out to those who supported your grandfather during the Rebellion. That is the only way we stand a chance, and should we lose - then House Stark will be finished.. and there will be no mercy for our sisters either.''

Jon could feel bile rise up in the back of his throat.

_Arya.. my little sister, with her hair as tangled as a bird's nest._

_Sansa, with her love of songs, chivalry and beauty._

Jon shook his head quietly. ''I lied to them, all of them - telling them i'd bring them House Tyrell and Martell both, when in truth neither are likely to declare for me.. when they find out..'' he rose to his feet, feeling like they were stuck to the ground. For a moment he felt slightly faint. 

Robb frowned, waving a hand dismissively. ''A white lie Jon, and you merely said that you would bring them to our cause, and neither of them have yet declared for House Baratheon - thank the gods.''

Jon could not find it in himself to answer.

''Are you afraid?'' asked Robb after the silence seemed to edge on forever.

''No,'' said Jon. ''Yes.. of course i am.'' he admitted, after a moment of silence.

_Half of Westeros wants me dead._

_And half of the lords following me would have preferred it if i was never born at all._

Robb nodded. ''So am i, but now that you are king you must act like it,'' he paused, seeming to search for the right words. ''I know my mother.. i know that she never..'' he trailed off, unable to meet Jon's eyes.

Jon could not help but smile. ''It matters not Robb, how your mother treated me will not be what ends up deciding this war.''

Robb hesitated. ''No it won't, but when we reach the Riverlands - i do not know what her reaction will be to all of this..'' he said quietly. ''But what i do know is that you two must put whatever strife there has been between the two of you in the past behind you. We cannot afford to fight a war among ourselves. We are doing this to save our sisters, to bring them back to us alive.. and to get justice for our father. There can be no other focus once the war begins.''

 _I am not the one who should be trying to make peace._ Jon thought sullenly to himself.

''Justice? What justice is there in a world like this?'' He shook his head mutely, his voice low. ''If the world was just then kings like Aerys, and Robert Baratheon would never have sat the Iron Throne.'' 

Robb moved towards the window, his shoulders tense.''In a world without justice one has to make their own justice.''

* * *

Two days later Jon found himself saying his farewells to Winterfell, as the snow poured down on them from above, the mood vacant, the clouds grey.

He was mounted on a black stallion, wearing grey chainmail over bleached leathers, sword and dagger at his waist, a fur-trimmed cloak across his shoulders. His shield hung limply next to him, wood banded with iron, black and red, on it the three headed dragon of House Targaryen. Next to him Ghost followed, ever his silent companion.

Mikken had made him a simple gold band of a crown, with seven gem stones of different colors, though Jon could not stand to wear it. It was similar to the crown Jaehaerys I had worn he had been told, for the simple reason that the old Maester meant that it would remind the lords of westeros that there had been good Targaryen kings too.

_Not just monsters like Aerys.._

Close by the banners of both House Stark and House Targaryen alike rippled in the wind.

_Fire and Blood._

_Death and destruction?_

_No.. i will be more than that._

_Like Aemon the Dragonknight? The man i once dreamt of being?_

_Life is not like in the songs though._

Behind them banners from the entire North were on display as well, from the White sunburst of House Karstark to the three sentinel trees, green on brown of House Tallhart.

Not one banner was missing, yet Jon knew that many might have preferred to be. The Greatjon had come to find him in the yard the day after and told him straight to his face that he would fight for him, though if he ever betrayed the north he would take his head himself, before storming off muttering about needing a drink.

Lord Ryswell had not even bothered to tell him anything, yet he was here all the same.

Close by Robb was saying his goodbyes to Bran, who seemed to be nodding gravely to everything being spoken between them. Rickon had refused to come down, not believing their words when they told him that they would return, with both his mother and their sisters. ''No one returns!'' he had screamed in defiance, rage and grief all mellowed in to one, with Shaggydog growling at them, teeth bared in a vicious snarl.

Theon Greyjoy and Robb fell in on either side of him as their knights formed up in a double column behind them. Close by were also Harrion Karstark and Cley Cerwyn. Beyond the castle walls the smallfolk cheered as they rode by, despite who's banner he was carrying. Though they mostly cheered for Robb, there were a few who cheered for him too.

He absently realized that he and Theon had not shared a word since the day the letter had arrived. He glanced at the Greyjoy, but Theon seemed lost in his own thoughts.

 _He cannot call me Snow anymore at the very least._ The thought vaguely amused him.

When Winterfell finally disappeared behind him he suddenly realized how real it all felt.

They were no longer boys playing at swords in the courtyard anymore, yet at the same time that was all that they were.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well a mistake led to this fic being deleted.. had to repost it again, which sucks, but oh well.. ^^
> 
> Anyway thank you all for reading so far. :)


	6. The Crossing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some of the dialogue has been taken from AGoT and modified.

**The Bastard of Winterfell**

The air was foul, the water tasted queer, or maybe it was just how strange it all felt.

_The south._

Truly he had never thought to be here, yet here he was, leading an army of all things. He could have laughed, yet there was not much to laugh about.

They had marched through the black bogs of the Neck some weeks past, and were now coming into the Riverlands. Forests, hills and endless rivers surrounded them on all sides. Ghost had whined pitifully once they had finally left the North, and Jon could almost sense his discomfort at all times, the direwolf's red eyes narrowing at the scenery around it. It had grown within him too, that same wariness, and sense of discomfort at leaving his home, leaving the North.

He had initially thought that the mood around the camp was getting better as they started marching. Though many of Robb's bannermen still cast him wary glances of distrust, some of them were beginning to warm up to him. The mood had been good until a couple of days past when they had received dire news both from The Vale and from the Riverlands.

Robb had been distraught to hear that little was known of his lady mother's whereabouts. They had thought to meet her at Moat Cailin, yet there had been no sign of either her, Ser Rodrik or Tyrion Lannister. The only thing that was known was that Lord Yohn Royce was supposed to have met up with her somewhere close by the Mountains of the Moon, yet her fate was unknown. Lord Royce was a good man, an honourable man.. from what Jon knew, yet his son Ser Robar remained a hostage in King's Landing, and sometimes family could mean just that  _much_  to someone. Wouldn't he and Robb know all about that?

Robb had tried to appear unaffected, yet Jon could tell how much it was bothering him just by looking at his eyes. Eyes that switched between hollowness, weariness and fiery determination constantly. He had already lost one parent, Jon did not think that Robb could bear to lose another. It would break him. Not in the same way news of their father's death had affected them, but in a more violent way. Robb had always had a shorter temper than him, and since the uncertain news concerning his lady mother he had been prone to lash out at people for the smallest things, though he kept himself composed in front of his bannermen, who's allegiance to House Stark were already hanging by a thin thread.

Jon cast a glance around him, at the trees swaying in the wind, and it made him wonder how he had ended up here of all places. The trees made him think of home too, the heart trees, and the solemn godswood. He wondered if he would ever see them again.

Even from a distance he could hear the clatter of hooves behind him, and soon enough Robb sidled up next to him. The Vanguard around him wheeled their horses about to give them privacy.

''You have heard have you not Jon?'' asked Robb, with barely restrained anger.

Jon warily turned around to look at him. ''Yes, though should we really have expected anything differently from a man such as him?''

''He is my grandfather's bannerman,'' Robb replied coolly. ''The man should have had the grace to answer his call, and instead he proceeds to sit there on his old wrinkly arse? Waiting for us? He has assembled a force of near four thousand men on the Green Fork, if our outriders tell it true,'' he shook his head in disgust. ''Another uneccessary problem.. another enemy for us to deal with.'' 

Jon shuddered to think of it. The news had been unwelcome in a camp that was already split enough when it came to loyalty to their supposed king. They could not afford more enemies than they already had. Jon sometimes wondered if Robb regretted his choice to crown Jon, yet if he did he had shown no sign of it. Instead his anger seemed to be directed at the world itself, as if the gods themselves had cursed and betrayed their family. Yet the part Jon constantly ignored knew exactly who was to blame for their woes, though he constantly ignored the whispers clouding his mind.

''Surely the man can be reasoned with Robb.'' answered Jon, his voice low and uncertain.

Robb frowned. ''Can he?'' his gaze darkened. ''The late Lord Frey they call him. Both a coward and a turncloak it would seem. Content to cower behind his walls while his liege lord remains under siege at Riverrun, while my uncle is wrapped in Lannister chains.'' he finished bitterly.

It had been a hard blow to accept once the news reached them - Robb's uncle Edmure's host broken beneath the walls of Riverrun, his bannermen fleeing in haste or under siege in the castle. Should the rest of Robb's family already be lost to them, then the war would already be over before truly even beginning. They would have no choice but to retreat behind Moat Cailin.

''Every man wants something Robb, we merely need to find out what it is that Lord Frey wants from us,'' Jon mused. ''If he is as pricklish as they say he is then he must want something.''

Robb frowned. ''And what if the price is too much to pay? I will not be made a beggar of.. not to a coward such as him.''

Jon hesitated. ''And what of your lords.. what do they make of all this? What do they advice?''

Robb rolled his eyes and smiled, making him look younger than his fifteen years. ''That is the thing isn't it? The Greatjon of all people wants us to storm The Twins. He says he hungers for battle and hasn't had a good fuck in a while. Give the man some ale and he'll calm himself.'' he finished with a chuckle.

''I take it he has fallen in love with me too then?'' Jon said dryly.

Robb smiled, the wind whipping through his hair. ''Oh no, he still isn't very fond of you, but the man seems more interested in bashing in skulls and swinging that giant greatsword of his than he is in family feuds. Once he gets a taste of battle i reckon he will stop his grumbling.. as for the others, well they are hardly happy about it all, yet they are here aren't they?'' he finished uncertainly.

_For how long?_

''Will we try to take it by force then, or do you plan to negotiate with them?'' asked Jon, after a pause.

Robb shook his head. ''I do not know.. yet we must find a way to pass the river. Time is already running out, and with so little word of my mother..'' he trailed off, his voice low.

''Lysa Arryn rules in the Eyrie, you need not fear for your mother's life Robb. Your aunt would not let any harm come to her.'' Jon offered.

 _Do i truly care?_  Some bitter part of him wondered.

It left him feeling shameful as usual, when he thought of her. No matter what he thought of Catelyn Stark she was Robb's mother.

''My aunt,'' Robb scoffed, his voice twinged with bitterness. ''Her sister has been declared an enemy of the crown and yet what does she do? The woman will not even bestir herself to answer my letters. Living as close to the clouds as she does must have made her forget her own family's words. Truly i never asked her to fight for us, merely to declare that she would not join up with Baratheon - yet no reply was ever seen,'' Robb looked at him with a frown, brows furrowing ever so slightly. ''No.. we will receive no help from her Jon.''

Jon shrugged, as the rain started pouring down on them from above. ''It does not truly matter anymore. We are outnumbered either way.''

Robb grimaced, looking up towards the sky. ''That we are.'' His eyes lit up after a moment, a grin tugging at his lips. ''You know just the thing to say to make me feel better Jon,'' he gave a small laugh. ''Truly.''

Jon snorted. ''We have not had good news for weeks brother. Mayhaps the old gods will take pity on us and strike down Robert Baratheon with lightning in all their fury, but i see no point in waiting for that to happen. With the kind of luck that we've had i wouldn't be surprised if this damned weather ended up being the end of us..'' he trailed off.

Robb tilted his head, a frown set on his face. ''Or.. mayhaps the seven are crying for all the southern blood that we will spill,'' he said darkly. ''Gods, if that old treacherous coward refuses to let us pass..'' he trailed off, shaking the rain from his hair.

''Then you will do what? Storm The Twins and and lose us thousands of men?'' Jon asked, with a hint of sarcasm.

''We must have The Twins one way or another, and there is no other way across that damned river.'' Robb answered heatedly.

''Aye,'' said Jon carefully, ignoring the fat drops of water running down his face. ''And i'm sure Lord Frey knows that too. The Freys may be cowards if all that we have heard is true, but the man seems to possess some low cunning as well. Would you truly pick us to stand a chance against the might of Casterly Rock if you were him?''

Robb scowled at him. ''It has nothing to do with that. The man is honorbound to serve my grandfather, he swore a vow.''

''Honor.'' Jon repeated numbly, tasting the word in his mouth. It left a bitter taste he found, to his surprise. ''If you truly wish to fight the same way father did, then there is no point in fighting this war in the first place. Our enemies will show us no such mercy. To most of them the word honor is nothing but a shield that they hide behind once the odds are no longer in their favour. We do not know what truly happened in that throne room.. but it does not seem like any man there decided to speak in favour of Eddard Stark. _Honor_.. a hollow word, and nothing more.''

Robb reddened slightly, his eyes narrowing defiantly. ''If we choose to behave like our enemies, then that will make us no better than them,'' he shot back, shaking his head. ''I have no wish to act like the Lannisters or Baratheons. Father taught me better than that.. taught  _us_  better than that.''

''Then don't,'' said Jon with a shrug, feeling anger rise inside him. He turned his eyes away. ''But do not expect them to show you the same courtesy.''

Robb sighed wearily. ''You ought to cover your head Jon, you will take a chill if this weather lingers on.'' he said, gazing towards somewhere in the distance.

Next to him Ghost whined pitifully as the rain drummed down on the ground beneath them. The direwolf's fur was soaked to the skin, and so was Jon's hair. It clung to his forehead like a wet curtain, near obscuring everything from view.

''Do not worry about me Robb, personally i would hope it will take more than some rain to kill me.'' Jon said dismissively.

Robb frowned, but said nothing more. Soon enough he wheeled his horse around and rode back towards where Lord Karstark, Cerwyn and Theon Greyjoy were following somewhere in the distance.

After that Jon rode in silence. His thoughts kept coming back to his family. Not the Starks, but the Targaryens. Some part of his mind had known already in the weeks gone past that he was not the only member of his family left, though he had pushed it to the back of his mind, uncomfortable with any sort of acceptance of who his father truly was, of what that man might have done to his mother, and of who his grandfather was, of his crimes.

_Daenerys and Viserys Targaryen._

_My Aunt and Uncle._

_Have you heard the news? Are you still alive? Are you still running?_

He had planned to send for them once they reached the Riverlands. Sometimes he wondered if they would even want to see him. He did not know much about his grandfather bar the usual stories of his insanity, but he knew that there was bad blood between House Stark and Targaryen.

_How could there not be?_

Maybe they would consider him a usurper too, or maybe they would welcome him with open arms.

 _Family,_ such a strange word. He already had one, yet there was another one waiting for him, somewhere far away, across the world.

It was near midday when their vanguard came in sight of the Twins, where the Lords of the Crossing had their seat, and to Jon's relief the rain had finally stopped pouring down.

The Twins were hardly beautiful, yet they did not need to be. Two identical castles, standing at either side of the massive bridge between them. The Green Fork running swift, deep and treacherous beneath that very bridge. The moats deep, the walls high, every approach protected, gates barred and closed. Along the battlements archers stood ready at their lord's command, waiting for the northeners to make the first move.

Robb slid gracefully from his saddle, most of his lords dismounting as well, while some of the others along with Theon Greyjoy rode further down the hill where the tents were being set up.

''There is no way this castle can be taken by storm.'' he said, casting a sullen glance towards the battlements.

''No.'' said Jon wearily, rubbing his eyes. ''It seems we will have to do this another way.''

''Seven hells,'' growled the Greatjon as he stepped up to stand beside Robb. ''It would cost us half our army, just to take the castle,'' he spat. ''The old fucker has got us trapped like rats here.'' 

''Aye, the Greatjon speaks true,'' agreed Ser Wylis Manderly.''I am not sure even a siege would be possible, and nor do we have time for one, if the news from The Trident are as dire as we have been told.'' 

''Your Grace?'' asked Roose Bolton softly. ''What would you have us do?''

Jon was given no time to answer the man, as just then a sally port opened, a plank bridge sliding across the moat, while knights bearing the banner of house Frey rode out to meet them. A weasely man who introduced himself as Stevron Frey with small squinty grey eyes, looking to be in his sixties rode at their forefront.

The man bowed his head demurely.

''My Lord father, Walder Frey of the Twins has sent me to greet you my lords. He wishes to enquire as to who leads this great host, and wonders for what purpose it is that you have decided to cross these lands?''

_They have known for weeks.._

''I, Jon of House Targaryen, along with my cousin Robb of House Stark.'' Jon said warily, stepping forward with Robb trailing after him.

The elder Frey looked at him, studying his feautures. ''Ah, i see. This is the famous Targaryen boy we have heard so much about then - Rhaegar's son?'' The man smiled slightly, his eyes darting back and forth between him and Robb. ''You do not look much like him i must say, you must favour your mother instead.''

Jon felt heat rise to his cheeks, but Robb interrupted him before he could speak.

''We have not come all this way to talk about Jon's looks Ser,'' he said sharply. ''You have ignored all of my uncle's pleas for help - if it is battle you wish for then speak plainly and tell it true. Have you joined up with Robert Baratheon?''

Ser Stevron sighed ruefully. ''Alas my dear father is in a spot of bother right now. So many vows to uphold.. vows to his liege lord, and vows to the crown. He is an old man you see, old and frail and he worries too much. He does not wish to betray either, yet he fears for the safety of his sons and daughters should he make the wrong choice - bless his poor heart - and forgive me Your Grace, but this army of yours..'' he trailed off, glancing at the camp behind them where tents were being set up as they spoke. ''Well yes.. this army of yours.. is not much compared to that of Robert Baratheon and Tywin Lannister you see..''

_Excuses upon excuses.._

''One northman is worth ten of you damn southeners,'' The Greatjon who seemed to be half in his cups grumbled sourly, while some of the other Lords nodded proudly. 

Ser Stevron bowed his head demurely. ''As you say my lord. I have never fought a northman, so i am afraid i cannot be the judge of that.''

''You can fight me right now if you want, you little shit.'' the Greatjon growled, but Robb held up a hand to still him.

Jon held back a grimace. 

''No more games Frey. We need to cross the bridge, tell me what it is that your Lord Father demands in return,'' said Robb warily, wringing his hands. ''Surely it must be something that he desires?''

Ser Stevron frowned slightly. ''Straight to the point i see. Would you not rather come inside - surely we may discuss this further over food and ale inside the castle?''

''So that you can take His Grace hostage?'' spat Ser Wylis.

''I think not.'' Robb replied coolly. ''Give us your father's demands. We have rode long, and my patience wears thin. You are no fool Frey, and we both know that i and my cousin must reach Riverrun in haste to relieve my uncle from the Lannisters, so tell me what it is that the man wants from us, and waste no more time with fake pleasantries.''

Ser Stevron tilted his head to the side. ''My father will not like this,'' he muttered almost apologetically, closing his eyes briefly. ''He does not take well to slights my lord.''

''The late Lord Frey should be glad that his head is still attached to his shoulders after his cowardice at The Trident,'' Rickard Karstark spat, glowering at the man.

One of the younger Freys bristled at that, and moved a hand to the hilt of his sword, but Ser Stevron waved him off. ''Now surely we can behave like civilized men and not like mere savages?'' he asked calmly, moving his gaze from man to man. ''Your own desire is to cross the bridge, is that so? Now my father he has simpler needs..'' he trailed off, smiling again. ''If we may discuss this in private Your Grace?'' he asked, his eyes flickering towards Jon.

''Anything you wish to say to me you can say in front of them,'' Jon said, grimacing. ''There are no secrets between me and my men.''

Something like annoyance flickered across the man's face, but then it was gone as soon as it had appeared. ''Of course,'' he smiled. ''Strong alliances are usually tied together by a knot - in marriage. Oh yes, it would please my father's old heart if he could live to see one of his daughters, or granddaughters married to a king. He has not experienced much happiness during the last couple of years, truly it would do him a kindness.'' Ser Stevron said softly.

Jon could feel Robb tense beside him as silence reigned around them.

''A greedy cunt is what the man is.'' muttered Helman Tallhart.

''His Grace is to be saved for another,'' said Robb sharply, his fists clenching. ''This is not negotiable.''

''Ah,'' said Ser Stevron softly. ''I see. That is a shame to be sure, my father will be most displeased to hear it,'' he said, glancing shrewdly towards Robb. ''But mayhaps we can make do with a lord instead?''

_The Freys know no shame._

Robb scowled at the man. ''I am already betrothed to the Lady Alys of House Karstark, but if you wish to speak of marriage, then we may speak of my younger brothers and sisters.'' Robb finished quietly, his voice wavering slightly.

Ser Stevron pursed his lips.

''A cripple, a boy so young he's still attached to his mother's tits, and two hostages who more than like will never leave King's Landing,'' Ser Perwyn Frey said coldly from behind him. ''A sweet offer to be sure.''

Robb's eyes narrowed to slits, his face growing red.

''They are  _Starks_ of Winterfell, not some petty lords or hedge knights, no matter what Robert Baratheon has been telling the world.'' Jon interrupted him, before he could speak.

Ser Stevron's face seemed to soften, though some other emotion lingered in his eyes. ''Of course Your Grace, a terrible crime i say - what happened to Eddard Stark. My father was pained to hear of it.''

''I'm sure he was.'' replied Robb, his voice clipped.

Ser Stevron nodded slightly, his beady eyes never leaving Jon's. ''Now your Grace.. while we would prefer to avoid hostilities - you must know that should it come to battle, then i will have to warn you that The Twins can not be taken by storm. If you wish to try, then by all means go ahead, but it will cost you half your army or more. Surely you are not desperate enough to try?''

Jon stood a little straighter, defiance steeping into his stance.

He shook his head. ''I do not need to take it by storm, because by the end of the day you will let our army through willingly.'' he said, with all the false arrogance he could muster.

The Freys seemed surprised for a moment before two of them roared with laughter, and Jon could hear some muttering behind him from the Northern lords as well, though he ignored it. His attention was focused on Stevron who was fixing him with a calculative gaze.

''Oh?'' said Ser Stevron, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. ''Is that so? Please enlighten me Your Grace as to what we could possibly gain from doing such a thing.''

Jon smiled wryly. ''You see, Robert Baratheon has somewhat of an obsession when it comes to killing Targaryens - hatred for my father burns bright in his heart still it would seem. He has accused both me and my uncle of plotting to overthrow him, and will not rest until i lie buried beneath the ground. Therefore i imagine that he would be rather unhappy to find out that we had been forced to retreat behind Moat Cailin due to Lord Frey,'' he paused, letting the words sink in. ''I'm sure you're as well aware as i am that Moat Cailin can not be taken by storm, nor is it likely to be taken by siege. The Moat is a deathtrap to be sure, and my lord cousin's bannerman Lord Howland Reed would bleed him every second of his cursed journey into the North. Now imagine a siege that may take years, while Robert Baratheon grows angrier and angrier - with almost his only provision line being The Twins - him and his fifty thousand men feeding off your lord father for years. The situation does not sound ideal for House Frey does it? And while this goes on the man will be cursing the very name Frey for bringing him into this situation in the first place.''

Jon spat on the ground. ''What Robert Baratheon wants is my head on a silver platter. He slew my father on The Trident and will most likely want to kill me there as well. You surely you do not wish to deny him that? I think we all know by now that he can be quite unpredictable in his wroth.'' he finished bitterly.

_Let the man believe it._

_Let it sow doubts within his mind, whether it is true or false._

Behind him Lord Hornwood snorted in amusement.

Ser Stevron paled slightly, his expression grim. ''Empty threats Your Grace, and nothing more.'' he said, though his voice wavered slightly.

Jon shrugged. ''Be it on your own head if you wish to believe that. The castle cannot be taken by storm, and nor would we be foolish enough to try, so that leaves us only with one option should you refuse us passage.''

Ser Stevron's expression hardened, suspicion in his eyes. ''Then why not just retreat behind Moat Cailin in the first place?'' he paused a moment, looking contemplative. ''Surely you must know that you can not hope to beat them in the field.''

''Family,'' said Jon, meeting the man's eyes without flinching. ''I may happen to be their cousin, but Sansa and Arya Stark are as much my sisters as they are Robb's. The Lannisters and Baratheons maimed my cousin Brandon, killed the man who raised me as his son, and now they are holding the girls hostage to do with as they please. That is why we need to go south Ser.''

Ser Stevron shifted uncomfortably. ''I see.'' he paused for a moment, regaining his composure. ''Though even if what you say is true, it will not be enough for my father. If you want his armies you will need to give us something more than vague threats. My father wanted a marriage, he has not got one yet.''

''Of course.'' Jon agreed mildly. ''In fact we have someone in this very camp who would make a good husband for one if his daughters.'' he paused a moment before smiling. ''Theon Greyjoy, the heir to the Iron Islands.''

Robb looked at him with something akin to betrayal, and Jon nearly flinched, but most of the Northern lords were nodding at him approvingly, muttering between them.

''Let the squid marry a Frey if it should please the old bastard. What does it matter to us?'' The Greatjon muttered sourly. ''Let the boy be of use for something other than putting bastards in the bellies of half the women in our camp.''

''Balon Greyjoy's last son?'' Ser Stevron mused. ''A worthy house to be sure, but their loyalty has always been rather frail i must say..'' he trailed off.

Jon shifted uneasily. ''Eddard Stark raised him to be a man of honor, the same way he raised me. He will stay behind until he has been wed to one of Lord Frey's daughters, while we race south to relieve the siege at Riverrun.'' Jon paused a moment. ''And i will remind you that i also have an uncle and aunt, still residing in the free cities.''

A hungry gleam appeared in Ser Stevron's eyes. Jon felt sickened by it, as well as the lies he kept telling, but he kept reminding himself that no promises had yet been made. Some of the lords behind him scoffed at the mention of his grandfather's children, but Jon had learned to ignore them by now, though he steadily tried not to push them too far.

''I will relay the news of these negotiations to my father. I dare say he will be most pleased to hear them.'' Ser Stevron smiled, though Jon was not sure how genuine it was, if all that he had heard of Walder Frey was true.

With that the man, his siblings and the guards wheeled their horses about, riding back towards The Twins.

''Clever, your Grace.'' Lord Bolton said, smiling tightly

Jon had to keep himself from not looking away when he met Lord Bolton's eyes.

''To let the Greyjoy boy say some vows and fuck some girl is a small price to pay for their allegiance Your Grace.'' Rickard Karstark said gruffly, nodding briefly.

''Who is gonna break the news to the boy?'' chuckled Lord Hornwood, his voice full of amusement.

Robb stared hard at the ground. ''I will,'' he said, before giving Jon a hard look. ''My lords, if you would give me and his Grace some privacy. I must speak with him alone.''

Most of the lords bowed and took their leave, while a few merely left without saying anything.

Robb fixed him with a cold look. ''Did you happen to think of asking Theon his opinion before selling him off to Lord Frey?''

Jon shrugged, glaring back at him. ''He is and has always been father's hostage. It is about time you learned that too Robb.''

''I do not like it,'' said Robb bluntly, staring hard at the ground.''He shouldn't be..'' He took a steadying breath, and when he breathed out again, his shoulders slumped a little. ''I do not want to force him to do anything, he is like a brother to me, as much as you are Jon, as much as Bran and Rickon are.''

''The truth now Robb,'' Jon interjected fiercely, quickly losing patience. ''Why is he here, if not to help us? We both have to marry someone, why shouldn't he? You call him your brother, and might be he believes that too. If he truly cares about you, and our cause, then he would not object to this.''

''You have never liked him have you?'' asked Robb coolly. ''Is this some sort of vengeance for the way he treated you at Winterfell?'' 

''Do you truly think me that petty?'' Jon shot back, his voice cold. ''I may not like him - truth be told i doubt i ever will, but i am doing this for our family. I am doing this to get our sisters back, and if Theon Greyjoy has to marry some Frey to get them back, then i could care less about his hurt feelings.''

_Why can you not see what i see?_

Robb said nothing, refusing to meet Jon's eyes.

''You wanted me to be your king Robb.'' said Jon wearily, letting some bitterness seep into his voice.

''Aye,'' said Robb, smiling tightly. ''That i did.''

He watched Robb's horse wheel about, feeling very tired all of a sudden.

* * *

**The Young Wolf**

Anger was clouding Robb's mind as he rode past the ordered rows of tents, past the banners steaming in the wind. It was a petty sort of anger he knew. What did it truly matter if Theon had to marry some Frey to secure their passage? But deep inside he did not think that Theon would see it that way. All around him people were barking commands, while the air stunk of horsedung, cooked meat and sweat.

He found Theon's tent close to the center, and dismounted his horse tiredly. From the inside of the tent he could hear someone moving about.

He entered the tent warily, a gust of wind moving behind him. He felt cold all over for a moment.

''Robb,'' Theon smiled, his grey eyes flashing with mirth. ''Has his royal highness King Snow sent for me?''

Robb ignored the mockery.

''There have been recent developments in the negotiations with House Frey.'' he said carefully, meeting Theon's eyes.

''Developments?'' Theon laughed. ''And what would those be?''

Robb hesitated, not truly sure what to say.

Theon gave him a searching look. ''What has happened Robb?''

Robb shifted uncomfortably. ''The Freys demanded a marriage, and since me and Jon.. since we could not offer our own hands in marriage.. well Jon thought that..'' he trailed off stupidly, feeling like his feet were stuck to the ground. 

Theon frowned, but when realization hit his eyes widened in fury, his hands balling into fists. ''He married me off?'' he spat, shaking his head in disbelief. ''Without my consent? To some fucking Frey?''

Robb hesitated. ''They demanded a marriage. They would not let us cross the bridge otherwise. Jon has promised them either his uncle or aunt once we retrieve them from the Free Cities, though i am not sure how much truth there is to that,'' he hesitated, edging around the table, unable to meet Theon's eyes. ''It might not be so bad Theon. The Freys are not a poor house, nor a weak one.''

Theon's lips curled in distaste, his hands trembling slightly by his side. ''I see,'' he said coolly. ''If that's how things are going to be..''

Robb frowned. ''I did not ask him to do this Theon,'' he shook his head, moving closer. ''Theon i-''

Theon laughed, it was a bitter sound. ''Maybe not, but nor did you try to stop him.''

Robb glared at him. ''What is the difference between what he's asking you to do and what Jon and i are doing? I'm marrying a Karstark for the sake of our family, and Jon will have to marry someone for their armies as well.''

Theon rose to his full height, towering over Robb who was by no means short. ''You forget yourself  _Stark._ I am a Greyjoy, and i have naught to do with this conflict of yours. I came here to fight with you, not to be your thrall. You had no fucking right to marry me off to some lowly Frey - no right at all.''

''My father raised you among his own children.. despite the fact that he might have considered you a-''

''A hostage?'' Theon snapped, anger flashing in his dark eyes. ''Say it like it is Robb, dont mince words now.''

Robb scowled up at him. ''My point is that he could have treated you a lot worse than he did, yet he treated you like one of his own. Do you care nothing for what happened to him?''

Theon hesitated, not meeting Robb's eyes. ''He was a good man.. but he was your father and the bastard's, not mine.''

''Then you can do him this last kindness,'' said Robb quietly, laying a hand on Theon's shoulder. ''For him and for my sisters. Sansa always treated you well. We all have to make sacrifices.''

Theon regarded him impassively, his grey eyes cold. ''Oh yes, getting to have Margaery Tyrell moaning beneath his sheets every night, such a noble sacrifice Robb. Truly i pity him.''

''The Tyrells have not even replied to our letters yet,'' Robb said sharply, glaring at Theon. ''Is that what this is about?''

''Maybe not,'' spat Theon, ignoring his question. ''But that is what you mean to do is it not? Marry him off to that girl and receive all the might of Highgarden in turn?'' he gave a bitter laugh. ''And all Jon Snow has to do is put a babe in her belly. A babe that will one day sit the Iron Throne if this insane plan of yours pays off.''

Robb moved away from him, yanking open the tent flap. It had begun to rain again, and Robb felt slightly ill. Lightning flashed, and thunder rumbled above. A silence settled between them for a while, neither saying anything.

''You once told me that i am like a brother to you,'' said Robb at last, his voice quiet and slightly redrawn. He silently cursed himself for sounding so vulnerable. ''Did you mean it?''

Some strange emotion passed across Theon's face, but then it was gone, and his face hardened.

''Some brother you are,'' he spat, not meeting Robb's eyes. ''Bartering me off like cattle to the highest bidder.''

''If only you had treated him with a little more kindness - none of this ever would have happened.'' Robb tried.

A spasm of rage flashed across Theon's face, causing Robb to flinch slightly.

''So this is my fault?'' Theon cut him off, his voice laced with anger and bitterness. ''He has always acted like an arrogant little shit, far above his station. Your mother had the right of it, the bastard should never even have been allowed to sit at the main table,'' he spat on the ground, his eyes flashing briefly. ''It would have been better for all of us. Your father is dead because of him, you do realize that don't you?''

Robb grit his teeth, ignoring the last remark, though It sent a wave of fury throughout his veins. ''I don't give a damn about whatever feud it is that you two have. It might not have been fair to you, but you will have to do what he wants regardless. We cannot go back on this now - not if Lord Walder accepts. We  _need_  to pass that bridge. And we  _will.''_

Theon fixed him with a cold look. ''And if i should refuse to play along with your little game?''

Robb met his eyes unflinchingly. ''We both know that you will do no such thing, given the  _consequences_.'' he said, his throat feeling very dry all of a sudden.

Theon nodded, his lips thinning slightly. ''I see,'' he said bitterly, moving towards the tent flap. ''If that was all i would like to at least have some privacy to prepare for my wedding.. or do i need your permission for that too?''

Robb clenched his fists. ''Lord Frey has many daughters.. i'm sure that you can find someone.. to your liking..'' he trailed off, releasing a weary sigh.

Theon laughed, the sound nearly echoing throughout the tent.

''Of course m'lord,'' Theon bowed mockingly, smiling brightly. ''Is there anything else that i can do for you? Ready your horse? Polish your armor?''

''Don't do this Theon,'' said Robb, almost pleadingly. ''I did not mean for this to happen, despite what you may think.''

''Get out Stark.'' Theon said, in a voice colder than Robb had ever heard him use before.

Robb hesitated for a second, but then left the tent without looking back, feeling bile rise in the back his throat.

He mounted his black destrier, riding back towards his own tent, where he proceeded to dismiss anyone who came to see him.

_Damn them both._

_Damn Theon for his shortsightedness._

_Damn Jon for his pettiness._

* * *

It was hours later when Ser Stevron Frey along with several other Freys returned with news of his meeting with Walder Frey. They met in the King's tent along with Robb's most important bannermen.

Ser Stevron warily confirmed that his father had not been pleased with Jon refusing to see him, and nor had he been pleased with Jon and Robb, both being betrothed to others. Yet he had accepted the deal grudgingly, along with making a few more demands. In addition to Theon Greyjoy and either Jon's aunt or uncle the man demanded Arya's hand for one of his sons. He also demanded some land in the Westerlands for one of his sons, assuming that the Lannisters would no longer be liege lords there. He demanded that Jon take one of his sons, Olyvar Frey as a squire, expecting him to be knighted in good time. And last but not least he demanded that some of his grandsons be fostered at both Winterfell, and in The Red Keep once the war was over.

Jon had clenched his fists and scowled at the man at the mention of Arya, but accepted nonetheless.

Robb did not believe him. Jon would never let his little sister marry a Frey of all people.

They crossed the bridge at evenfall, the Red Fork glinting in the moonlight beneath them. The double column wound its way through the gate of the eastern twin, riding through the courtyard, into the keep and over the bridge, to issue forth once more from the second castle on the west bank. Robb rode at the head of the vanguard, with his brother of whom he had barely spoken to since their argument. Lord Karstark and the Greatjon who seemed to have calmed down slightly followed behind them. Behind followed nine tenths of their horse; knights, lancers, freeriders, and mounted bowmen. It took hours for them all to cross.

Lord Walder had given them most of his strength, though he had kept some for protection. Likewise Robb had insisted on Helman Tellhart being left behind to make sure Lord Walder kept his faith.

Robb could still remember the sight of Lord Walder Frey in his litter watching them pass. They had told Ser Stevron that they would be pleased to meet him if he so wished, but Ser Stevron had waved him off. 

_Apparently Walder Frey would not be pleased to meet them._

What haunted him the most though was Theon's cold look as they left him behind on that drawbridge. Robb had tried to talk to him before they left, but the boy he considered his brother no longer seemed to want anything to do with him. Robb had made sure to make it clear that Theon was to be treated well, though Jon for his part did not seem to care too much, to Robb's vast dismay.

The larger part of the northern host, pikes and archers and great masses of men-at-arms on foot, remained upon the east bank under the command of Roose Bolton. Robb had commanded him to continue the march south, to confront the huge Lannister army coming north under Lord Tywin Lannister. It had been Jon's idea in the first place. The man seemed to unnerve him something fierce, and Robb had reluctantly agreed that the further away from them they kept Roose Bolton the better. They had kept the Greatjon with them, along with a few others who might have split loyalties such as the Glovers, just to keep them away from Lord Bolton.

He prayed that his mother would reach them in time, and that she was safe, but for better or worse now there was no going back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly kinda surprised that no one ever even mentioned this option in canon. 
> 
> I will have some POV from Catelyn soon. (She's still alive, dont worry)
> 
> And also some from Sansa in KL, and Robert/Kevan's POV of what's going on in the Riverlands/Stormlands/The Reach etc.
> 
> Thank you all for reading so far, comments etc are always appreciated. :)


	7. Ghosts

**Cat**

The room was bleak and dull, the walls strange and unfamiliar.

She barely ate. Nausea had turned her hunger off. Thirst had turned her tired and withdrawn.

She wanted to blame Jon Snow, she wanted to blame Ned - she wanted to blame a lot of people, and yet she could not find it in her heart. The heartache had long since given way to silent grief. The anger and rage simmering beneath the surface had long since gone from a throbbing pain to a dull ache that would not let go. It all seemed like something out of a nightmare - a nightmare where she felt like a stranger - a stranger in a world where things had ceased to make sense a long time ago - a world where deceit and madness ruled her sleepless nights.

Her dreams were blurred, and at times she was not truly aware of where they began and where her nightmares ended. Sometimes a dragon would rise from its slumber, breathing flames - flames that rose higher and higher towards the ceiling, swirling and crackling, consuming the room and everything within. In the room itself the shadows swayed and shifted as stags, lions and wolves danced around each other in the inferno.

 _Lies, lies, lies upon lies, upon lies._ The shadows would whisper at her, their voices twisted and cruel.

_Did you truly think that i would spill the secret.. that i would wish to bring doom upon all of us?_

_How could you think me that cruel? That heartless?_

Her stomach twisted into knots at the thought of it, as it always did.

She could not say what hurt the most. Sometimes she wanted nothing more than to hate him, to scream at him until her throat had gone hoarse, until her tears had dried out. Other times she wanted nothing more than to be held in his arms again, to feel his breath upon hers, his fingers running through her hair, and to have him tell her that it was all gonna be alright.

None of those things would ever happen again.

Thinking of her husband brought another sort of pain all together, one where the feeling of grief now blurred with the feeling of betrayal, sorrow and a sense of loss, something that could never truly be reclaimed. Their love felt tainted now, and It left her wondering whether she had ever truly known him at all, and that might just have been what hurt the most.

_How could you not trust me with this? How could you look me in the eye for fourteen years, knowing what you did?_

Sometimes she wondered whether or not it would have made a difference at all? Would she have been able to at least care for him had she known.. to not despise him? She did not know. It was never truly the boy she had hated, but more specifically the idea of the boy - the idea that Ned had could have loved someone more than he had loved her. The fear that he might someday fall in love again.

He had done so once, why not twice? And then there was Jon Snow, the spitting image of a younger Ned Stark, though there were subtle differences if you glanced upon him long enough to see them - in the shape of his grey eyes, the long face and the slim sharp jaw, as well as the nose which was thinner than her husband's, and how his hair was a slightly darker shade of brown than Ned's. Jon Snow, the threat to her own true born sons.

Even in her wildest imaginations, her darkest nightmares she could not have imagined that the truth might somehow be worse - that it could be more painful than what she had feared all along.

_You let me suffer in silence for fourteen years. You would never speak her name.. and you let me think.._

She slumped against the wall, her auburn hair spilling out all around her.

She could still remember when she had been a young girl, back when she had first met the stoic young lord of Winterfell - the boy with grey eyes that seemed to be devoid of light, warmth, and laughter, like the grey skies that flew high above Winterfell, like kites in the wind. He was not Brandon, not the wild wolf with his fierce temper, whom she had later come to realize she had never truly known at all. She could still vaguely recall riding to Winterfell, only to find out that the boy and his wet nurse had already taken up residence there, which had turned her heart cold upon arrival. Yet eventually the feelings came, and with them the jealousy - when he would still refuse to speak of her - when he would still refuse to tell her who she had been.

Ned was not the type of man to lay with other women on a whim, something that had made her feel even more miserable, for surely he must have loved the girl he was willing to give up his honor for? Ned who had taken years to even tell her that he loved her. Ned who in the beginning seldom smiled, and rarely laughed. Yet he had given it all up for some girl - how much could she have meant to him?

_Apparently everything._

And maybe it had made her despise Jon Snow even more, and maybe it was petty, maybe it was cruel, but Jon Snow was the constant reminder of the faceless woman who had haunted her dreams for years, the reminder of the woman who had bore him Ned Stark's mirror image - the reminder of violet eyes that had burned brightly beneath the moonlight at Harrenhal. Ashara Dayne, the pale, silent shadow that was always there with her, whispering cruel words and fueling her insecurities. And so the bitterness had grown and festered inside her, until she could barely stand to look at the boy - he who looked more trueborn than even her own sons. Robb, Bran and Rickon with their red hair and Tully-blue eyes. Eyes that shone like the water during summer, the sky on a day free of clouds. They were not stormy, and cold like Jon Snow's. They were not those of the North, not Ned's.

Most lords had the grace to keep their bastards elsewhere, lest their wives should have to suffer the shame of looking at the reminder of their unfaithfulness every day. How was she supposed to know that in the end it was a never another woman, or a girl that her husband had loved, but his sister - frail and fifteen years of age, a child in truth, and for that very reason Ned would have wanted him to stay, the last living reminder of the sister whom he had loved. For he had always been fiercely protective of his family. It was one of the things she cherished the most about him.

_Family, Duty, Honor._

Those were her words, and yet Jon Snow was no blood of hers.

She slumped deeper against the wall, the dull ache in her chest lingering still, even after all this time. She wondered if it would ever go away. How long she sat there she could not tell, whether it had been minutes or hours, but eventually she was brought out of her stupor as the door opened behind her. She glanced back and saw the lord of Runestone enter, his footsteps heavy against the creaking floor.

''Lady Stark,'' the man greeted her, his voice wary.

She gave her legs shake and rose slowly. She might look disheveled, but she was still a daughter of Hoster Tully.

''Lord Royce.'' She replied coolly, turning her chin up defiantly.

The man at the very least had the grace to look shamed. She inwardly considered that a victory.

''This was not how i wanted things to be My Lady,'' He said apologetically, his eyes not meeting her own. ''You must understand-''

''Understand what?'' she snapped, her patience wearing thin. ''Do you think you are the only one who stands the risk of losing someone? The only one with loved ones out there?''

His gaze darkened at that. ''You stand accused of treason,'' he paused, letting the words sink in. ''You stand accused of conspiring to put Rhaegar Targaryen's son on the throne.''

''And do you truly believe that?'' Her lips curled in distaste. ''Those are nothing but the vile lies of a man so lost in his own hatred that he can not tell right from wrong anymore.''

''You took the imp hostage?'' Lord Royce demanded, his slate-grey eyes narrowing slightly at her. ''You do not seek to deny it?''

''Yes i did,'' she admitted, her voice low but steady. ''The little monster tried to murder my son,'' she closed her eyes briefly, turning away from him. ''Were it not for my sister's foolishness then Tyrion Lannister would rest beneath the ground by now, and rightly so.''

''Believe me Lady Stark i hold no love for the Lannisters either, a wretched family if there ever was one,'' Lord Royce replied, a touch sourly. ''Yet all the same his Grace now believes you to be an accomplice in Eddard Stark's supposed plot to dethrone him.''

''Then he truly has lost his mind,'' she retorted fiercely, feeling bile rise in her throat. ''Ned would never..'' she took a deep breath. ''He may have loved that boy, but he kept him hidden for a reason.''

''Eddard Stark was a good man, but he was not the man i thought i knew,'' replied Lord Royce, his voice hard. ''Whether he truly sought to use the boy against Robert Baratheon or not is of little matter, it was treason all the same.''

''Do you name it justice then?'' she asked, her voice as sharp as steel. ''What Robert Baratheon did?''

''No,'' said Lord Royce darkly, seeming slightly disturbed. He did not meet her eyes. ''A king should not act so -  it sickened me to watch.''

''Ned considered him a brother,'' her hands trembled, and she felt tears threaten to spill from her eyes. She wiped them away angrily. ''He would have died for him.''

''Might be that's true, but your husband still betrayed his Grace's trust, and that is not something to be taken lightly. The way it was done was foul, but that does not make the punishment itself wrong..'' he shook his head weakly. ''I'm sorry for your loss, no one deserves to have their loved ones taken away from them.''

_What do you know of pain?_

_Ned.. Bran.. my daughters.. gods.. my daughters.. all alone._

For a moment she felt a desperate ache develop within her. _They are not all lost to me, not yet._

''Your son rides for Riverrun my Lady,'' Lord Royce said after a moment, bringing her out of her stupor.

''My son,'' she repeated dully, her voice hoarse. ''He is too young.''

''Young men go to war all the time my lady,'' said Lord Royce firmly, though not unkindly. ''Though i fear this one will not go too well for him.''

''We will receive no help from the Vale then.'' she mused, though she had already known as much. Lysa had been clear enough when it came to that.

''No,'' answered Lord Royce. ''And even if your sister had called the banners there are scarce few of us who would ever wish to put a Targaryen on the throne again,'' His face twisted into something foul, a look of disgust marring his features. ''They have caused the realm enough grief, and the Vale as well. I have lost my own kin to their madness.''

_Gods Robb, what have you done?_

She could not understand it. What kind of madness could possibly have driven him to crown that  _boy?_ The only houses with any interest at all in a Targaryen sitting the Iron Throne were the ones in The Reach, and even most of them had been trying to get back into the good graces of House Baratheon ever since the last dragons were slain.

Catelyn lifted her chin. ''Will you hand me over to Robert Baratheon then?'' her voice cracked, lower and unlike her own.

Lord Royce shook his head. ''That was never my intention. I merely needed to be seen doing something,'' he seemed older then, his features more worn out, and she had not until now noticed how gaunt his face truly was. ''My son's life hangs in the balance, they told me as much when i left the capital behind. You will leave this place by nightfall, though there is a man who would like to speak to you before that.''

''A man?'' she asked, her voice wavering slightly.

''Yes, though a worm would be a better way to describe him,'' Lord Royce scoffed, his voice filled with loathing. ''Littlefinger they call him. I know him from the Vale, though not well. He has risen high since then.. though a whoremonger and a lowborn is all he is, and all he ever will be..'' he trailed off, his eyes meeting her own. ''He seems to be convinced that you would wish to see him.''

''He was fostered at Riverrun,'' She confessed, her voice low. ''He is dear to both me and my sister.'' 

 _What is he doing here?_ She wondered. Had he come for her, or for Lysa?

It made little matter. She needed to reach Robb, her firstborn - nothing else mattered. 

Lord Royce nodded at that. ''Very well, i will not take any more of your time my lady,'' He lowered his gaze slightly, looking slightly uncomfortable. ''I wish we could have met under different circumstances, i truly am sorry for your loss.'' He paused for a moment, ''Whether Eddard Stark was a traitor i do not know, but he was a better man than most nonetheless.''

_Spare me your false courtesies my Lord, i do not need them._

''So do i,'' she said stiffly, looking him directly in the eye. ''May your son return home unharmed and well.''

''If the gods are just.'' said Lord Royce quietly. He gave a brief nod and left the room.

She closed her eyes again and slumped in her seat until the door opened again.

He looked no different than the last time she had seen him, laughing grey-green eyes staring intently at her, catlike and mischievous. He closed the distance between them hastily.

''Cat,'' he greeted her, tentatively reaching out to touch her arm. She stiffened at his touch, though he did not seem to notice. ''It truly is a cruel world that we live in. You have my condolences."

''Petyr,'' she smiled tightly, her voice slightly strained. ''I take it you are here to seek an audience with my sister?''

''Business brings me to The Vale indeed i fear,'' Petyr admitted, his voice wary. ''King Robert seeks to remind House Arryn of where its true loyalty lies.''

''My sister's loyalty is to no one but herself it seems,'' She cleared her throat, feeling like it was closing in on itself. ''And you.. you Petyr.. where does your loyalty lie?''

''I am afraid she is not the same girl you grew up with,'' He smiled ruefully, closing his eyes briefly. ''Time has changed her, and not for the better.'' his smile faltered slightly, ''As for my loyalty, it has always been with you Cat - with you and your family.''

''I saw that clear enough for myself Petyr,'' she replied bitterly, turning away from him - while wrapping her arms around herself. ''Grief has turned her mad, and her fear for her son even madder.''

''It is troubling indeed,'' Petyr admitted. ''But she is your sister, and you must hold out hope that she will do what is right.''

''You will try then?'' she asked hesitantly. ''She always cared for you the most.''

''Of course i will try to convince her Cat,'' he assured her, taking one of her hands in his own. ''You need not fear, though i am afraid it will prove a hard task to sway your sister. Your son is facing an uphill battle, and even with his diminished reputation there are scarce few lords and nobles in Westeros who would wish to go against Robert Baratheon and Tywin Lannister.''

She nodded wearily. ''Where is he Petyr?'' she demanded hoarsely. ''My son.. you must tell me where he is..'' she trailed off, her voice low.

Petyr squeezed her hand slightly, his gaze solemn. ''We received news when we rode by The Twins weeks past. Your son has crossed the bridge, along with his bannermen, as well as The Targaryen boy king,'' his eyes darkened slightly. ''By now they must have reached Riverrun itself, and the Lannister army laying siege to it.''

She stiffened at the mention of the boy. ''And Lord Walder granted them safe passage.. along with his swords?'' she questioned disbelievingly. A shiver ran down her spine at the thought of The Kingslayer marching towards her ancestral home. She had already been told that the Lannisters were marshalling an army at Casterly Rock, but it had all felt so far away. _Robb.. gods. May the warrior protect him._

Petyr shook his head weakly. ''The boy offered them your lord husband's ward, Theon Greyjoy, along with some of his kin in Essos. It is a surprise to be sure, but it matters little now.''

''A surprise?'' she asked warily, meeting his eyes quickly. ''What do you mean Petyr?''

''The gift is a poisoned chalice Cat. The boy has played them for fools. He has sold them empty words and nothing more,'' Petyr smiled ruefully. ''Aerys's son and daughter are most like dead by now.''

''Dead?'' she asked, her stomach tightening. 

''Robert was quite insistent that they be put to the sword you see. Likely they are already corpses beneath the ground,'' replied Petyr, his voice low. ''Giving away Eddard Stark's ward was cunning as well, though it might come back to bite him later.''

''How so?'' she asked quietly, feeling vaguely ill. ''The Greyjoys have never been friends to the Starks, nor the Tullys.''

''That might be true,'' he agreed, giving a brief nod. ''Though Balon Greyjoy is as pricklish as they come,'' he paused, his gaze flickering towards the window. ''One must wonder what he thinks of all this - two of his sons slain, the third dressed up like a whore, sold off to some petty lord,'' He turned back to her again, smiling that crooked smile she remembered from their youth. ''A whipped dog forced to do his master's bidding is no more than a thrall to men like him, someone to be mocked and laughed at. The boy won't remain his heir much longer, if he ever was in the first place.''

''Balon Greyjoy will do nothing so long as we hold his son hostage,'' she said fiercely, forcing herself to believe it. ''Theon Greyjoy is his last living son, and only heir.''

''We shall see,'' said Petyr. ''I am merely warning you Cat. You know this Jon Snow better than i do, but i think it's plain to see that he is no ruler,'' he met her eyes. ''Though in truth it does not matter whether or not the boy knows how to rule. This war will be over soon. He has no allies, and no friends. No one wants him for their king, you're as well aware of this as i am.''

''I know him well enough,'' she replied bitterly. 

''Then you know what you must do.'' said Petyr. He tried to meet her eyes, but she turned away from him. It was not Petyr's eyes that swam within her mind. It was Ned's. She felt bile rise in her throat, along with a blur of other emotions.

 _What would you have me do Ned?_ She wondered. 

Was he not entitled to a trial?'' Catelyn asked after a moment. ''They were like brothers, you and i both know it to be true,'' she swallowed, her hands curling into fists. ''Surely he can not truly believe that my husband desired to steal his throne?''

''I am afraid our good king Robert judged him guilty on the spot. I fear he always did have a short temper, and his hatred for Rhaegar Targaryen is like a madness within him, one that burns ever so brightly,'' Petyr replied gently, though some other emotion lingered in his eyes. ''Your lord husband insisting that the Lady Lyanna had ran away out of her own free will did him no favors either. Robert could not face the truth, and reacted the way everyone expected him to, by the very words of his house.''

_Ours Is The Fury_

She closed his eyes briefly, swallowing thickly.

It felt like a knife was twisting in her stomach, deeper and deeper it went.

''Who betrayed him Petyr?'' she asked hoarsely, her voice cracking slightly. ''Who sold my husband's secrets to the king?''

''Ah,'' he mused. ''As to that i cannot say, though the court is full of potential traitors. The spider spins his web of lies, and The Lannisters keep their secrets close to their chests, but if you truly wish to know then you should look to the south - the furthest south it gets. South.. where the news originated in the first place,'' he leaned forward slightly. ''The serpent waits in the grass, and bides its time, waiting for the right moment to strike, and it seems that Doran Martell has been nothing if not patient.''

''The Martells?'' she asked, shaking her head in disbelief. ''Ned had no quarrel with them, he argued against what happened to Elia's children, he named it murder.. it disturbed him a great deal what happened to those children..'' she shook her head in disgust. ''He never would have meant them any harm.''

''Do you know what they did to the man's sister?'' asked Petyr, leaning forward as if to tell a secret. ''What they did to her children?''

''There were rumors, they are known throughout the seven kingdoms.. though it is an open secret who truly gave the order,'' she replied, her voice low. ''Ned never spoke about it - it pained him i think, that the man whom he loved like a brother could condone such a heinous act.''

''Elia's children were wrapped in crimson, so slick with blood that one could not tell where the cloak began and where the blood ended,'' Petyr continued, his voice low. ''The Red Viper wanted Stark, Lannister and Baratheon blood alike in return. In the end he would have settled for either of them.''

''The boy is their niece and nephew's brother,'' she replied, aghast. ''Surely they would not desire such a need for vengeance?''

''The boy is a reminder of all that they have lost. A reminder of what Rhaegar Targaryen did to their sister, the grief he caused their family,'' he paused, his voice lowering. ''The Lady Elia always was rather frail you see, and yet she gave Rhaegar Targaryen everything, even at the cost of her own health. And how did he repay her? By leaving her for another woman, shaming her, humiliating her. And the Martells must wonder to themselves - how is that he still lives - how is that he still draws breath while Elia's children rest beneath the ground? Where is the justice in that?''

''What could they possibly hope to accomplish by doing such a thing Petyr?'' she asked quietly, her voice sounding dry and cracked even to her own ears. ''See the realm tear itself apart in another senseless war?''

''To see the families that tore their own apart rip each other to pieces might be enough of a price,'' he answered quietly, laying a hand on her shoulder. ''Truthfully only the gods know Cat, but i bid you.. keep a wary glance to the South. The Martells are sly and treacherous if nothing else,'' he lowered his voice slightly again. ''I would not have you harmed again, not if i can help it.''

She closed her eyes, while a tear ran down her cheek. ''It is so senseless all of it - gods Ned.. never in my wildest nightmares..'' she trailed off, her voice hoarse.

''He should not have lied to you Cat, it was a cruel thing he did,'' Petyr said softly. ''Putting your family at risk for years - you and your children.. all for a boy - the same boy who has led to so much misery, and will once again lead to so much suffering,'' Petyr shook his head dully. ''The same boy that has been the ruin of your family.''

''I will not have you speak ill of him Petyr, not Ned. Not after all that has happened. I will not let you taint his memory, not when it is all that i have left of him,'' she spoke again, softly and haunted. ''He did what he did for the love of his sister, and whether i disagree with him or not makes no matter - i will not blame him for it.''

_No matter how much i may want to._

''He betrayed you Cat, he broke your trust,'' Petyr insisted, leaning closer. ''I would never have lied to you. You know how much you mean to me.''

_Your lies are of a different matter.._

''Do not presume to think that we are anything more than i have ever led you to believe.'' she said, regarding him coolly.

''It was more than that Cat.. more than that and you know it, were it not for Brandon Stark-''

''Do not finish that sentence Petyr,'' she replied, her own anger flaring. ''Have you no honor?''

''I hope that you will one day come to understand how much you mean to me,'' he countered, his gaze darkening. He tuned away from her briefly. ''He didn't deserve you. He never has.''

_Gods.. he has still not moved on, even after all these years.._

She could see it in the way his eyes lingered on her. There was lust in his gaze, hidden behind false courtesies, and veiled pity. She felt cold all over as the realization struck her. How could she not have seen it? The way he drank in the sight of her like a man dying from thirst. 

_He is no longer the boy i knew at Riverrun._

''Do not speak of such things here Petyr, not while my husband is nothing more than a ghost by my side,'' her voice was icy quiet. ''Is that why you're here, to speak of feelings that you've never laid a claim to? If so, then i will ask you to take your leave.''

''I apologize if i have offended you my lady,'' his voice was quiet and withdrawn, though his eyes remained as cold as chips of ice. ''It was never my intention, truly.''

Catelyn inhaled shakily and looked away. ''I think you should leave,'' she said coldly. ''You are clearly not thinking straight.''

Petyr's gaze darkened. ''Cat.. ever since we were young i have loved you,'' he answered in a low voice, almost pleading. ''I may not have been good enough for you back then i admit it, but things are different now. The name Baelish is no longer a name to be mocked, but rather one to be feared,'' his eyes twitched, and his gaze flickered towards hers. ''It should have been us. In a better world it would have been.''

She stiffened, still as stone. ''Get out,'' she hissed, trying to keep her hands from shaking. ''I have heard enough. We are not at Riverrun anymore.''

She felt her skin crawl at the way his eyes trailed over her. ''I will leave you to your grief then,'' His eyes were on hers, dark and narrowed. ''May your husband finally be at peace.'' he said, taking a small bow. And then he swept out of the room, while she was left to her ghosts, her eyes following him warily all the way out of the door.

She breathed out shakily, her hands trembling slightly, before rising to her full height. She would need to be strong. She would need to regain her strength for Ned, for Robb, and for all her children. For their sake she would have to try to let the past go, no matter how much it would pain her to do so.

By midday she was mounted on her horse, riding for Riverrun. Her uncle Brynden, who was in a foul mood, and Ser Rodrik rode next to her, though there was little to no conversation at all. She was in a dark mood herself, but it made little matter, for she would have her daughters back one way or another.

_And you Ned.. what would you have me do?_

_Family, Duty, Honor._

Those words had always meant _everything_ to her, and yet now she could not help but wonder why they felt so hollow. 

* * *

 

**The Bastard of Winterfell**

His leg was throbbing. His mouth tasted like blood, like something foul and rotten, the smell of it overriding his senses, making him feel slightly nauseous. The concept of time had seemed to blur away during the battle, fading all around him, until he could not tell how much time had passed. He could still recall the sound of arrows hissing through the air, like fire cracking late at night, swords clashing all around him, the steel singing with every strike.

He could not recall his first kill, merely that his eyes had met the other boy's eyes in those final moments, and whether the boy had been a Lannister, a Brax or a Westerling Jon could not remember. Whether he had been a lordling or a peasant Jon did not know, in that moment when their eyes met, it all ceased to matter. The look in the boy's eyes had been crazed, like that of a wounded animal, clinging to life, the smell of blood clinging to his skin like sour wine, while thunder flashed across the sky, the screams of a thousand terrified horses echoing throughout the air. While men laughed, and men cried out in pain, fear, and anguish. While men cried out for their mothers and their wives, while they cried out for vengeance, justice, their homes, and their liege lords.

His sword had slashed open the boy's throat, steel flashing in the pale glow of the moonlight, a look of surprise on the boy's face as blood sprouted from his throat, the life leaving his eyes as he tumbled backwards into the mud. He stopped moving, and then he stropped breathing, the bloodstain spreading wider across the grass, while the battle itself raged on, a blur of blood, rain and terror.

By the end of it all he was not sure how many men had been slain by his hand, though he could vaguely recall fallen forms with spoiled complexions, like that of spoiled milk, glittering beneath the sky. 

His head was pounding, only made worse by his throbbing leg. His surcoat was stained with crimson blood, the three-headed red dragon on it looking like something grotesque and malformed. His mailed glove was black with blood. He winced slightly from the look of it, his gaze trailing towards the looming castle in the distance, far away.

He drifted past thick dark trees, rain brushing against his face, the wind swirling all around him. His hair hung wet and limp, grey eyes peering out into the night. Walking forward he could see the man even from a distance, while men parted for him as he moved through the crowds, bowing their heads, muttering between them. Some cried out the words Tully, some the words Stark, a few even cried out the words Targaryen, yet it all blurred together in his own mind, his gaze remaining fixed straight ahead.

Mud and water splashed around his feet as he drifted through the crowd absently, almost like a ghost. His eyes caught sight of the Kingslayer again, striking even from far away, his eyes sharp, a small smirk on his face even as he stared hard at the ground, as if this battle had been a mere jest and nothing more, as if thousands of men weren't laying down in the mud, blood covering them from head to toe, lifeless eyes staring dully up at the sky.

_He's right there.. i'll know by the end of the night.._

The Kingslayer was bloodied and bruised, his golden hair slick with blood, and yet there was still a certain feeling of invincibility to the man. 

''Your Grace.. i give you the Kingslayer,'' a Hornwood man at arms spoke grimly, spitting in the mud. ''We managed to restrain him, though not before suffering heavy losses to his blade.''

''This is Rhaegar's whelp?'' The Kingslayer gazed upon him with indifference, worse than indifference, amusement. ''I confess myself dissappointed.''

Rage blurred at the edge of Jon's mind, not quite seeping through fully. This was the man who had killed both Eddard and Torrhen Karstark, slain trying to keep the Kingslayer away from Robb. Somewhere across the field Owen Norrey's lifeless body was being carried away as well.

_I need to know.._

He ignored the Kingslayer, and instead turned to the Hornwood men holding him down. ''Put him in chains, and have him thrown in the dungeons,'' he spoke firmly, already walking away from the man without giving him so much as a backwards glance.

They crossed the Tumblestone in a small boat, the river running swift and deep beneath them. Robb sat in the bow with Grey Wind, wearing plate and mail as bloodstained and broken as his own were. The silence lingered on between them as the strong current pushed them past the looming Wheel Tower, while more and more of the Tumblestone disappeared in the distance. The banners of House Tully rippled in the wind on every rampart in sight, and Jon could not help but tense slightly.

He found himself absently gazing into the darkness as they passed beneath the Water Gate's portcullis. They drifted beneath the walls and further onto the water stair where Lord Hoster Tully's guards stood ready to meet them. The boat was pulled close with long hooks, while Jon and Robb alike moved onto the water stair, water flapping all around them, the air cool and fresh on their cheeks.

His eyes met Robb's, and for a moment it looked like his brother wanted to say something, but then his gaze trailed elsewhere.

Jon walked until he found the godswood, though it did not feel much like the one at Winterfell. In truth it was more of a garden, bright and airy, the scent of flowers filling the air all around him. It was not the dark, haunting place that he had grown used to. The place where dark shadows loomed above him, the silence almost suffocating at times. 

He brought forth the wineskin he had brought with him and drank heavily. It felt icy cold as it trickled down his throat, as cold as winter itself.

He was tired. His arm burned from the weight of the longsword, and his body ached all over. He had hardly gotten any sleep after he’d woken up the night before. He had tossed and turned for hours, until finally managing a light doze, just as the first rays of sun broke over the horizon.

_I should be sleeping. I should be elsewhere, not here._

For a moment he merely stood there, in the darkness, watching the moon and stars above him as rain trickled down his face. He felt cold all over.

_Do i want to know?_

Something in his stomach tightened harshly, twisting like a knife.

_I need to know._

He inhaled and exhaled.

He needed air, he needed to.. he could not wait any longer, it had to be tonight. He did not know how much time had gone by, but the night had grown dark and quiet by now. He absently wondered if anyone was out looking for him.

The godswood around him felt far too unfamiliar, far too strange and queer. He did not feel at home here, this was Catelyn Stark's place, that of the Tullys of Riverrun, it was not his, it never would be. He would find no peace here, amidst the quiet rustling of the trees.

He could hear footsteps somewhere in the distance, but he kept moving. Maybe it was Robb trailing after him, maybe it was someone else. He did not linger long enough to find out.

He walked as if in a daze, and in the end he found the place he was looking for. The gaoler's gaze traveled to his face and then onto his surcoat before a look of recognition passed across his feautures, and he hastened to obey. The torches on the wall flickered ominously as he moved along the rows of cells.

He had to shakily compose himself when he finally reached the man, his breaths short and shallow.

The Kingslayer seemed to study his feautures for a long time, that condescending smile never leaving his face. ''Well there's not much of a family resemblance, though it's quite hard to tell,'' He rolled his eyes when Jon did not reply. ''Gods you remind me of that dour old Stark too, you even have his look.''

''Is that so?'' Jon asked, his voice dull.

''I knew your grandfather quite well boy,'' Ser Jaime smiled mockingly, his green eyes bright and alive in the darkness that surrounded them. ''He was such a charming man, truly,'' Ser Jaime leaned forward slightly. ''Well when you forget about certain parts of his personality i suppose..'' he trailed off, the smile withering slightly.

_This is a mistake.._

''Why are you here?'' Ser Jaime asked after a moment.

_I don't know._

''You were there.. when it happened.'' he replied, his voice low. ''You were there when Eddard Stark was murdered,'' he clenched his fists. ''I need to know.. i need to know what happened that day... i need to know what he told the court, and you will tell me Lannister.'' 

Ser Jaime raised an eyebrow at that. ''Why should my words mean anything to you?'' He gave a small shrug. ''Though you should feel free to come by more often Your Grace, i suppose it will get quite lonely down here after a while.''

''It is just the two of us here,'' He hesitated, tasting bile on his tongue. ''I will know soon enough anyway, it might as well be tonight.''

''I see you've got some wine there,'' Jaime replied, his eyes flicking towards the wineskin. ''Feel free to share some with me. You never know, it might loosen up my tongue a little.''

Jon picked up wineskin and flung it into the cell, feeling his fingers twitch slightly.

He watched as The Kingslayer pulled out the stopper, tilted his head, and drank heavily. ''The sweet taste of wine,'' Lannister gave a small sigh. ''A deal is a deal i suppose,'' his eyes met Jon's, dancing with amusement. ''Whether there is any truth to the tales they all whisper about - is that what you wish to know?'' Lannister gave a cruelly twisted smile. ''Are these the type of questions that give you sleepless nights?''

Jon looked away from the man, his hands balling into fists. He leaned against the wall, trying not to sway on his feet.

''Let me soothe your fears little dragon. Your lord uncle was quite insistent during his last living moments that she ran away out of her own free will,'' Ser Jaime laughed, the sound echoing throughout the hallway. ''I'm afraid it drove dear Robert over the edge to find out that the feeling wasn't mutual. Life truly can be a cruel jape at times.''

Jon slumped slightly against the wall, his breath shallow.

''A great relief is it not?'' Ser Jaime drawled. ''To know that you are not the spawn of rape.''

''I should leave,'' said Jon, shaking his head. ''I shouldn't be here..''

_What am i doing here?_

He rose to his feet, shakily starting to move.

''Does it make you feel better then.. does it make you feel relieved.. knowing that the whole realm bled for their folly?'' Ser Jaime asked from behind him, his voice as sharp as a knife. ''I wonder what the great lords and ladies alike will think when you tell them that they went to war for nothing, that their friends and family died for nothing,'' His smile twisted into something mocking and cruel. ''Your uncle Brandon never would have set foot in King's Landing were it not for her.''

Jon stopped in his tracks. ''My mother was fifteen.. she was but a child, how could she have known-''

Ser Jaime laughed. ''Your mother was a naive little girl - a naive little girl with her head full of songs. Some tragic love story is it not? That is what the singers would have you believe. The gallant prince and the fair Lady Lyanna, a crown of blue winter roses laying atop her brow,'' Ser Jaime leaned forward, his hands rattling the bars. ''I was there at Harrenhal when he crowned your mother queen of love and beauty, and you could see it in Elia's eyes - oh she kept her face stoic, her head held high, but the pain and embarrassment was there in her eyes, plain for all to see. Oh and to think were it not for your parents she might yet live, and your brother and sister might yet live, now doesn't that make for a sad song Your Grace?''

''Noble words coming from the man who slew the king he was sworn to protect,'' Jon hissed, turning his eyes away from the man. ''I have no need of your judgement, Kingslayer.''

''Ah,'' Ser Jaime paused, smiling tightly. ''And there it is -  _Kingslayer_..'' he repeated, his voice low. ''The Starks fight for you, and yet here you are defending the man who put a rope around your uncle's neck. The man who put your grandfather to the torch,'' he paused for a moment, closing his eyes briefly. Jon thought the wine might've gotten to him, but could not be sure. ''I can still hear their screams at times. They still linger in that throne room, even after all these years.''

Jon did not reply. His throat had gone completely dry.

Ser Jaime leaned back slightly. ''I remember driving my sword through his back. I have killed many men since then of course, but your grandfather - that was something truly satisfying - killing a tyrant like that - a monster in human form,'' he paused, his smile fading a little. ''Ah, to my disappointment i've found that the taste can never quite be replicated,'' Jaime's eyes watched his, wary and slightly distant. ''I gave them justice, Brandon and Rickard Stark alike.''

''Aye, you're a true knight in shining armor,'' replied Jon coolly. ''How grand it must be to have your entire legacy based on the fact that you slew some defenseless old man,'' Jon's hands curled into fists, and he felt his anger flare. ''You've never served anyone but yourself Lannister, the whole realm knows it to be true.''

For a moment the Kingslayer merely watched him, his lips pressed together, his eyes filled with loathing.

''Does it bother you that i killed him?'' he asked, after a moment. ''Fear not Your Grace, the dead won't hear us down here.''

''I hold no love for Aerys,'' said Jon fiercely, feeling bile rise in his throat. ''I know what he did, i know what he was,'' he shook his head in disgust. ''I could care less about him or his fate, but i will not hear you drag neither Eddard nor Lyanna's Stark name through the mud. You have no right.. you least of anyone.''

''Do you now?'' Ser Jaime's eyes lingered on his own. ''I dare say you are right Your Grace. Your Lord uncle thought much the same - something that he was always quite fond of reminding me of,'' his eyes darkened slightly, and his voice grew sharper. ''Not much honor in taking a bride despite already being wed though.. is there? A bride who was already promised to another,'' he laughed again, showing teeth. ''I wonder what your mother must have thought to herself when she realized all the grief she had caused. I wonder what she thought to herself when she learned of the death of your uncle and grandfather - when the great tale turned out to be one of horror instead - when her dreams shattered beneath her fingers. When the news came from The Trident, stories of purple eyes staring vacantly up into the sky, and tales of red rubies scattered in the wind. That truly must have been when love turned to ashes in her mouth.''

Jon flinched violently. ''You know nothing about her, and even less about me,'' The helpless anger flared into burning, overwhelming fury. ''By what right do you judge her?'' he spat. ''She never would have wanted any of this, not the war.. not the bloodshed.. not any of it. She never would have wanted anyone to die for her,'' his eyes stung, and his mouth tasted of bile. ''You forget yourself Lannister. You are at my mercy here, not the other way around.''

_Why am i here?_

''The truth hurts, doesn't it Your Grace?'' Ser Jaime's eyes glittered in the dim light of the torches. ''And the truth is that your mother was a silly little girl with her head in the clouds - and let us not forget your brave, noble father. The man who left his wife and children at the mercy of his insane father, abandoning them to their fate - while he scampered off to Dorne to make your mother his blushing bride,'' He gave a hoarse laugh. ''You must be so proud to be their son, truly.'' 

Jon's insides twisted, and for a moment he felt like vomiting.

 _Kingslayer._  It was on the tip of his tongue, but it merely seemed a hollow insult, one he could not bring himself to believe in.

''I've heard enough of your bile,'' He was swaying on his feet uneasily. ''Tell your tales to the guards if that is what you desire - or to anyone else who might care. It matters not to me.''

Ser Jaime smiled. ''She must have loved you, but then again Lord Stark already confirmed as much,'' He confessed with a twisted laugh. ''A hollow enough victory, but one you can take comfort in all the same - when you close your eyes to the thousands of dead bodies littered around the seven kingdoms.. all for you.'' he paused a moment.  ''It is a strange world we live in, when the truth can be almost just as bitter as the falsehood that Robert Baratheon spouted for fourteen years.''

Jon did not reply, instead he rose to his feet and started walking.

''Do yourself a favour boy and flee across the Narrow Sea, this - this is a war you cannot win,'' Ser Jaime's voice called after him. ''Robert Baratheon will not rest until every last dragon is dead and buried, and nor will my father.''

Jon paused in the hallway. ''Do not speak of my mother, not you.. you who sat the Iron Throne while my sister and brother bled to death, the ones you were sworn to protect.. you have no right.'' He spat it out like venom. 

Ser Jaime did not reply.

He stumbled towards the Godswood, and by the time he got there he was gasping, short shallow breaths leaving his body, while tears ran down his cheeks, blurring with the rain that fell from the sky.

His stomach tightened itself into a knot, and he had to keep himself from retching.

For the first time in months he wept, and whether it was from shame or relief he could not tell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Jon pov is pretty much just him getting rid of months worth of pent up anxiety, regarding the questions of his parents, for those of you that dislike angst. :c
> 
> I'm also looking for a beta, if any of you are interested.
> 
> Comments etc are always appreciated. :)


	8. Taking Flight

**The Bastard of Winterfell**

A light rain was falling. Jon could feel the drops on his face, trailing down across his skin as the cold in the earth seeped through his bones. Before long every muscle in his body felt clenched and cramped.

The cold darkness of the night beat down on his back harshly, and the wind sent his hair fluttering in all directions. The grass felt cold and wet between his fingers, the smell of it old and foul. The smell of fertile earth and morning dew was there as well, strange and unfamiliar. It touched his cheek, brushing against his face in what would surely end up being a rash.

 _Move,_ he ordered his frozen limbs, feeling as though they would sink into the mud if he lingered any longer.  _Just get up and move._

Jon grunted and used his forearms to lift himself. He felt his body protest slightly, each movement bringing an ounce of pain from his creaking limbs. He found his feet after a moment, his anger flaring yet again as he started walking, having to keep his feet from staggering. He had imagined that it would make him feel lighter, just a little bit, but somehow it did not. Not because of the Kingslayer's words, but because he had fallen for them.  _He only meant to provoke me. And i fell for it._

_I let him get inside my head. He turned what should have been relief.. what should have been a moment of happiness.. into something tainted and foul._

A cool, slight breeze ruffled Jon's hair as he walked along the edge of the Godswood.

He could feel his gut clench slightly as his hands tightened into fists. _Humilation._ There was no other word for it. _His words were not true. They were meant to hurt. They were meant to cut deep._ The rustling of the leaves was almost deafening in the deathly silence around him, and for a moment he felt a chill run through him as his pace lengthened, his breath low and slightly strangled, blurring with the sound of wind and rain alike.

Ghost padded after him, a pale silent white shadow at his side, and Jon found himself absently scratching the direwolf behind the ear. He could still taste bile on his tongue, and he had to keep his hands from trembling.

_Forget his words. They mean nothing._

Lord Eddard Stark had told him to never show weakness in front of an enemy, and yet the Kingslayer had made him look like nothing but a sullen little boy playing at war.  _How am i meant to rule when i can't even accept my own surname? How am i meant to be king when i can't even confront a man wrapped in chains?_  He knew all too well where it all stemmed from, and he knew all to well why his thoughts would stray to the godswood whenever it happened.  _But i am a boy no longer. It takes a man to rule, not a sulking boy who goes hiding everytime he hears hard truths and cruel words._

_He wanted to make me look weak. It won't happen again._

He found himself absently hoping that he had left something behind in that hallway.  _Am i not the blood of Aemon the Dragonknight, and Brandon the builder alike? What is there to be ashamed of?_ His pace increased slightly, becoming steadier and steadier as the rain drummed down against the ground, stinging his eyes, the taste of iron on his tongue.

He had to take a deep breath when he finally reached the end of the clearing, feeling some of the tension leave his body.

He caught sight of Robb outside the great hall, speaking in hushed tones with a man who looked to be the very image of him.

 _Ser Edmure, his uncle._ Jon thought to himself. He did not know much about the man, but if Lady Stark's feelings towards Jon were anything to go by then he was not certain he was like to love him either.

For a moment he stopped in his tracks, feeling like his feet were stuck to the ground, but then Robb caught sight of him too, and then his brother was striding across the yard until they were only a few feet apart. Robb hesitated for just a moment, his eyes wary, but Jon still caught it.

''Jon.'' Robb's eyes met his own, his voice quiet and withdrawn. ''Where have you been? You can't just - no one knew where you had gone, and i thought..'' he shook his head. The words came out urgently, fast and rushed, and there was something akin to fear in Robb's eyes. ''You look pale Jon.''

 _What does it matter to you?_  They had hardly spoken to eachother for weeks, apart from during councils. Jon knew that Robb still blamed him for his earlier actions, weeks past, and it had left resentment between them.  _Theon Greyjoy is naught to me._ He tried to remind himself.

''The Godswood,'' Jon answered, and for a moment the only sound was the wind between them. ''I went to pray. The battle it.. i had not thought it to be like that..'' he trailed off, shaking his head slightly. The lie came effortlessly to him, though Robb did not seem to buy it. His eyes were on Jon's, dark and bloodshot.

''There is blood all over me. In truth i'm not certain whether it's Eddard's, Torrhen's or mine own blood,'' He breathed out quietly, his eyes meeting Jon's. ''Are you alright?'' he asked after a moment, searching Jon's eyes for some ailment. ''There is to be a council soon. The Riverlords have arrived, and the Northern lords with them.''

''I'm fine.'' Jon said dismissively, his lips thinning as Robb's gaze grew darker. ''I was merely praying. That is usually what one tends to do in a Godswood after all.''

''You don't look fine,'' Robb noted, a twinge of shame in his voice. ''Tell me the truth Jon. Where were you?''

There was a long moment of silence as they both stared at each other. The wind was a living thing around them, howling almost like a wolf itself. Blue eyes met grey, and Jon felt his hands curl into fists.

''Nowhere.'' he said at last, without much feeling. He gave Robb a challenging look as if daring him to contradict it. ''I merely needed to be alone for a moment.''

Robb made no answer, but there was hurt in his eyes. He remained silent for a moment. ''If you say so,'' he said at last, looking uncomfortable. ''We've had word from the south. Robert Baratheon has not travelled down the Kingsroad, nor the Goldroad,'' he wrung his hands nervously. ''He lingers at Storm's End, with twenty thousand men around him.''

Jon tensed, his eyes going slightly wide. The trees rustled like living things all around them, the leaves falling like snow during winter.

Jon shook his head. The anger was leaving him as suddenly as it had come.  _There are more important things at stake here than my pride._ He reminded himself again. ''As far as i'm aware Robert Baratheon would like nothing more than to see my head rest on a spike,'' Jon replied, his voice low. ''He should have marched by now.. and he does not seem like the type of man to take no for an answer. Why in the seven hells is he stalling?''

''Some of the Stormlords seem to be wary of the threat from Dorne, and The Reach,'' Robb explained, a shadow briefly covering his eyes. ''Baratheon wanted their whole strength to march with him, but that would leave their lands free to be be invaded from two sides,'' he paused for a moment. ''It doesn't seem like many of them want to take that chance, not even for their king.''

''That is troubling news. Will he move down the Kingsroad then, or towards Bitterbridge?'' Jon asked. ''If nothing else it will buy us more time to deal with Tywin Lannister.''

''Some of them want to march on Highgarden to make sure of the Reachmen's loyalty. Others seem to be of the belief that it's folly to bleed the Stormlands dry of soldiers, when they already outnumber us by nearly twenty thousand men,'' Robb gave a dry laugh. ''For our own sake let us hope that those thoughts will prevail.''

 _What is he doing at Storm's End?_  

Jon wondered if he meant to demand Mace Tyrell's loyalty. Fear gripped his heart for a moment. There had been no response at all from the Tyrells in the months gone by, nor the Martells. Jon had not truly expected the Martells to answer his call in the first place.  _They owe me nothing. My father made sure of that._ He had hoped to sway them with the promise of vengeance, but for all he knew they might not bear him much more love than they did the Lannisters.

However the lack of response from the Tyrells gave him pause.  _My ancestor Aegon made them what they are today. Without him they would be mere stewards, and nothing more._  Loras's Tyrell's life had to be hanging in the balance if they refused to so much as even answer Jon's letters. The Lannisters would have to be fools to even consider harming the Tyrell boy in the first place, although Baratheon's murder of Eddard Stark along with Tywin Lannister's ruthlessness might have made them wary. He wondered if they would be playing to a different tune once they heard of their capture of the Kingslayer.

''We can not beat them both in the field,'' Jon mused. ''Harrenhal cannot be taken by storm, nor by siege. It is too huge, we would be trapped like rats there. Does he mean to lure us there?''

''I don't know Jon, though it would not surprise me if he did,'' Robb replied, raising a shaky hand to scratch the side of his jaw, his gaze flickering briefly towards the great hall. ''Some of them are quite eager to deal with him as soon as possible,'' His shoulders relaxed slightly, the smallest hint of a smile playing around his lips. ''We've had other news from the south as well. It would seem that you're not entirely without allies in the Crownlands. The Bastard of Driftmark, Aurane Waters, has laid siege to Dragonstone, along with Lord Celtigar. They fly the Targaryen banner atop their masts, and name you their king.''

''Truly?'' His breath caught in his throat. The news shocked him so much that he stopped moving entirely. ''How - when did this happen?''

''Lord Mooton brought us the news. Ships arrived in the the dark of the night a couple of days past or so. Aurane Waters seems to be of the belief that the Lannisters have murdered his brother,'' Robb's face clouded over, hard to see in the darkness of the night. ''Though in truth he is the one who stands to gain anything from such an outcome.''

''You don't believe it to be true?'' Jon asked. ''Lord Monford has a son, does he not?''

 _What man would let his own brother die out of greed?_ If the Velaryons had betrayed Robert Baratheon then he was sure that the lord of Driftmark would be made to answer for it, if only to prove a point. Monford Velaryon, unlike Sansa Stark or Loras Tyrell was hardly a valuable hostage. Jon found himself feeling slightly numb at the thought of it. The Velaryons were one of House Targaryen's closest allies, he knew that much from his lessons at Winterfell. _Did he die for me.. for my cause, or did he die screaming, pleading his innocence?_ Jon wondered.

''Aye. He has a son and heir as far as i'm aware,'' Robb answered, his voice low. ''Though it was his half brother who was left to rule in his absence, when he left for King's Landing. The envoy he sent told Lord Mooton that a letter had arrived at Driftmark months past, speaking of treachery in the capital. It is hard to tell whether or not his words are true, or if he's playing us false,'' Robb shook his head in disgust. ''I would be loath to trust a Kinslayer.''

_Nor would i, but he has done us a great boon nonetheless. The Royal Fleet. With those ships we could.. gods._

_''_ How many ships has he brought us?'' Jon asked urgently. ''We cannot let them fall into the hands of the enemy.''

''Twenty five ships set sail from Dragonstone. It would seem that the younger Baratheon is far more cunning than the older,'' Robb confessed sourly, drinking deeply from his wineskin. ''He summoned the Velaryon boy to Dragonstone, along with Lord Celtigar and Lord Sunglass,'' he paused a moment, his eyes growing darker. ''Once he realized they were mustering men at Driftmark and Claw Isle he put most of the ships to the torch, rather than let us have them. He managed to sink about fifty of them before the Lords in the Narrow Sea arrived, and by then he was already prepared for a siege. Lord Sunglass was slain in the battle that followed. He died fighting for his liege lord,'' Robb's eyes met his, filled with uncertainty. ''Waters and Celtigar have about seventy ships stationed around Driftmark, but they lack the men needed to bring them to us. The lords around Cracklaw Isle have been helping them, but they barely number more than five hundred.'' Robb finished glumly.

''Why not flee?'' Jon asked, aghast. ''Dragonstone is not Storm's End.''

Robb shifted uneasily. ''I don't know, but Waters has vowed to bring you Stannis Baratheon's head, as a sign of his loyalty.''

''It is the royal fleet that i have a need of, not his head.'' Jon said, shaking his head. ''What news do you bring from the rest of the realm?'' he questioned, running a hand through Ghost's fur.

Jon listened quietly as Robb began speaking, and learned how the rest of The Seven Kingdoms were faring.

Roose Bolton had re-formed the battered remnants of their other host at the mouth of the causeway. Ser Helman Tallhart, and Walder Frey still held the Twins. Lord Tywin's army had crossed the Trident, and was making for Harrenhal. Stannis Baratheon remained under siege at Dragonstone, and neither The Reach, The Vale, nor Dorne were stirring. Ser Forley Prester had fled west with his tail between his legs. Robb was of the belief that soon enough the Lannisters would be forming another host at Lannisport. The commonfolk spoke of atrocities being committed by brigands and Lannisters alike, and of a man near eight feet tall, raping, looting and burning as he went.

 _Clegane._ A chill went through his body as his hands curled into fists. For a moment he wondered if Lord Tywin meant to use him as bait.  _If he thinks that i am Aemon come again, the knight in shining armor, then he does not know me well._

There had been two other letters as well. Maybe not the ones he had hoped for, yet they were welcome all the same. A friend in the Reach had declared his support, along with one in the Crownlands. Jon knew little enough about either of them, but in truth it did not matter.

_I should be thankful for every ally i can get._

''My uncle would like you to dine with us tonight.. he has heard some tales.. tales that may have been misleading..'' Robb began, unable to meet Jon's eyes.

Jon froze, still as stone. ''What now? Did i burn half of his family alive too?'' he asked coldly, his breath slightly strangled. ''Or did one of my ancestors happen to beat one of his at a game of Cyvasse?''

Robb flushed slightly. ''No you see.. my mother.. she may have.. spoken of you, once or twice.. during visits..'' he trailed off. ''And they weren't the kindest of words,'' he turned his eyes away for a moment. ''And we both know that your ancestor Aegon was the one to give his family the Riverlands in the first place, and we also know how they repaid that loyalty. My uncle remains wary of your feelings in regards to their role in the Rebellion.''

 _You've got to be jesting._   _I could care less about anyone's role in the rebellion._

''I see,'' Jon replied, shaking his head in disbelief. ''I certainly musn't disappoint him then.''

''He doesn't know you like i do,'' Robb said defensively, his gaze darkening. ''He is a good man, but family means to everything to him.''

Jon said nothing, but merely gestured for Robb to lead the way.

Robb led him over to a young knight standing standing beneath a tree, looking pale and gaunt.

Edmure Tully glanced at him with something akin to suspicion, and for a moment Jon began wondering exactly what tales he had been told by his sister.

The man rose to his feet. ''Your Grace,'' he greeted Jon warily, his posture stiff, though something akin to curiosity lingered in his eyes.

''Ser Edmure, it gladdens me to see that you are well,'' Jon replied, his voice wary. ''Will your Lord father be joining us today?''

''I am afraid he has taken ill Your Grace,'' said Ser Edmure curtly, sharing a wary glance with Robb. ''Please, if you would follow me. Our bannermen are waiting,'' he paused a moment, his face clouding over as Jon tensed in front of him. ''My nephew Robb tells me that you are a good man, and i'm inclined to believe him, though i would like for us to get to know one another.''

Jon felt his hands unclench slightly, the anger leaving him as quickly as it came. ''I would like that.'' he said after a moment, glancing towards the hall. ''Let us meet with the Riverlords then. Please, lead the way, I'm certain they're growing impatient by now.''

Ser Edmure gave something that might have resembled a smile, but almost seemed to be more of a grimace, and gestured for them to follow him.

Jon was already walking away, crossing the yard, Robb next to him.

_May the gods know i am in need of every ally i can get._

Riverrun's Great Hall wasn't filled to the brim as it had been earlier. He glanced inside, his gaze trailing across the room, lingering on the men crowding the benches. All around him tales of the slaughter in the Whispering Wood were spreading like wildfire, but he paid it little mind. The air was warm and heavy inside, though the hall itself stank of wine and blood. He lingered outside the hall for a moment until they all caught sight of him.

Standing on the edge of the threshold he realized they were all staring at him, dark gazes lingering on him. Every conversation had stopped, and every pair of eyes in the room were on him. The air felt so tense it was simmering.

The wind had picked up, the rain beating down relentlessly on the ground, and Jon shivered slightly as a gust cut through him, as sharp as the edge of a blade. But it was more than the wind that chilled him.

 _Why should my surname fill me with shame?_  He wondered.  _My father was no rapist. He may have been a craven and a madman for all i know, but he was no rapist._ Old memories flashed across his mind's eye. _''I am Aemon the dragon knight!''_  he had screamed once upon a time, when he was younger.  _There is no reason to be ashamed._ There were good and bad men in every family, not just his.

''Your Grace.'' they all greeted him when he entered the hall. Some of the lords bowed, and some merely inclined their heads. Some of them stared at him with suspicion, others with warmth hidden behind lidded, tired, bloodshot eyes.

He was led to the high seat of the Tullys, while Edmure Tully took a seat to his left, and Robb to his right.

The hall remained silent as they waited for the rest of the Riverlords to arrive.

The war council took place in the Great Hall, at four long trestle tables arranged in a broken square. Lord Hoster was too weak to attend, though his bannermen were all there, arrayed to right and left and along the side tables. Word of the victory at Riverrun had spread to the fugitive lords of the Trident, drawing them back. Karyl Vance came in, a lord now, his father slain beneath the Golden Tooth. Ser Marq Piper was with him, along with Ser Raymun Darry. Jonos Bracken arrived from the ruins of Stone Hedge, glowering and blustering, and took a seat as far from Tytos Blackwood as the tables would permit.

The northern lords sat opposite. They were fewer. Daryn Hornwood, now the lord of Hornwood after his father's death at The Green Fork, sat at the Greatjon's left hand, while Galbart Glover and Lady Mormont were to the right of them. Lord Rickard Karstark, gaunt and hollow-eyed in his grief, took his seat like a man in a nightmare, his long beard uncombed and unwashed. He had left two sons dead in the Whispering Wood, and there was no word of the third, his eldest, who had led the Karstark spears against Tywin Lannister on the Green Fork.

Jon's gaze absently flickered across the room, meeting lord after lord.

_Compose yourself. Don't show any weakness, not here._

''You all have a right to speak,'' he began, his voice firm and hard. ''And i will listen to each and one of you,'' his fingers twitched slightly beneath the table. ''We have won a great victory today, but this war is far from over as you're all well aware. You have all suffered greatly due to Tywin Lannister - he will pay for his crimes, you have my word. Your homes have been left in ruins, your smallfolk slaughtered, and your lands put to the torch,'' his eyes moved around the hall. ''I cannot help you rebuild them, not until this war is over. Nor can i bring your loved ones back to life. But what i can offer you is vengeance, and i swear that once the war is over we will set our sights on the Riverlands. You will not be forgotten once i sit the Iron Throne.''

''Aye, and when will that be?'' asked Lord Bracken. ''By the time this war is over there might not be much of the Riverlands left to rebuild.''

''When the war is over,'' Jon answered stiffly, his sword hand flexing beneath the table. ''Until then we have different priorities.''

''His Grace's words are true. We should be focusing on the war, not bicker among ourselves,'' agreed Lord Blackwood, his voice sharp. 

''I see, and how exactly do you plan to win a war where our enemies outnumber us two to one? I hold no love for those wretched Lannisters either, but i fail to see how we're supposed to stand any chance at all against them,'' Bracken growled at him. ''The Mountain put Stone Hedge to the torch, and raped one of my daughters while he was at it,'' his eyes widened fit to bulging, his voice filled with loathing. ''He slew my nephew, and my son as well. There is nothing so much as vengeance that i desire, but we are too few, and the foes too many,'' his eyes settled on Lord Blackwood. ''And we all know why you're happy about this Blackwood. After all the boy is practically your closest relation here, considering how inbred the Targaryens are.''

''I grow weary of your insults Lord Bracken,'' said Jon, rising to his feet. ''If this is about my grandfather..''

''Don't flatter yourself boy. A stag or a dragon? Do you think it matters to me which one of you ends up sitting the Iron Throne? That has nothing to do with any of this,'' He shook his head in disgust. ''The Riverlands took the brunt fifteen years ago, and now it's happening again. We're the ones suffering, not the North, nor the Stormlands or Westerlands,'' Lord Bracken's eyes pierced his. ''We suffered when your grandfather sent men marching on us, and now we're suffering again with Tywin Lannister laying waste to our fields, and slaughtering our smallfolk.''

''Have a care how you address His Grace,'' Robb warned him, his voice low and sharp. ''Your insults will not be tolerated much longer Lord Bracken,'' he shook his head. ''It is not a doomed cause. The Tyrells could still join us, and the Dornishmen have yet to declare for anyone. Nearly all the houses in the Narrow Sea fight beneath our banners as we speak.''

''If you're asking me to lick his arse, and to refrain from telling hard truths then you're speaking to the wrong man boy,'' Lord Bracken replied coolly. ''I won't give you any honeyed words, no matter how much you may desire them.''

''The houses in the Narrow Sea bring about four thousand men to the fold. That is far from enough my lord,'' said Lady Mormont solemnly. ''Fishermen will not win us this war.''

 _It is not their men that will bring us victory, it is their ships._ Jon thought to himself, ignoring Lord Bracken. A part of him wanted to speak, but the Riverlords seemed to be venting their anger, and he had no intention of escalating things.

''Our course is clear,'' Lord Karstark said grimly, rising to his feet. ''We must crush the Lannisters before they can link up with Robert Baratheon. Otherwise we stand no chance my lords, and i will have vengeance for my sons. I will have my sword slick with Lannister blood before any of this is over.''

Eddard and Torrhen Karstark trading blows with Kingslayer flashed across his mind's eye. He swallowed bile, his hands curling into fists. Next to him Robb's lips were slightly parted, his face looking pale and shaken.  _They died for him._ Robb would marry Lord Karstark's daughter, but that would be nothing but a hollow victory to Rickard Karstark.

''The Kingslayer and Gregor Clegane alike will pay for their crimes, and so will any other Lannister who has shed northern blood with impunity,'' said Jon firmly, his eyes darting between Lord Karstark and Bracken. ''You have my word.''

''Aye, he'll pay for his crimes,'' said Lord Karstark, his eyes dark and hollow. ''He will pay for them, one way or another.''

Jon shifted uneasily in his chair, and he could feel Robb tense slightly to next him.

''You would have us waste our armies Lord Karstark?'' asked Lord Mallister quietly. ''We are outnumbered almost two to one if the tales are true,'' he continued, casting a wary glance towards Jon. ''We should let them come to us. Who knows the Riverlands better than us? Who knows our forests, fields and rivers better than any of us?'' he asked, glancing around the hall. ''Let Tywin Lannister and Robert Baratheon think that their strength in numbers protect them. Let it be their shield, and their doom alike.''

''While the Riverlands bleed? While the likes of Tywin Lannister and Clegane raid our lands with impunity? You would have us cower behind our walls like cravens?'' Lord Blackwood spat on the floor. ''I say we march on Harrenhal and crush Tywin Lannister, before Baratheon has the chance to lead his army down the Kingsroad.''

''Aye,'' Ser Marq Piper spoke with a sense of urgency. ''We should finish them off once and for all. Their strength lies with Tywin Lannister, and without him who is left to rule the Westerlands? The Kingslayer?'' he laughed. ''We all know that he is currently enjoying the hospitality of the gaoler, wrapped in chains. The Imp? Kevan Lannister? Those are weak men. Let us lure him out of Harrenhal, and soon enough we'll have his head on a spike. While the remaining Lannisters fight over Casterly Rock like vultures fight over scraps of meat,'' he continued, drinking deeply from a goblet of wine. ''By then we will be able to set our sights on Baratheon and his ilk.''

''If we were to march on Lord Tywin, then we would scarce have enough men to fight Baratheon afterwards,'' Robb interjected fiercely. ''The Lannisters would bleed us dry, and by the time we are finished with them Baratheon will crush what remains of our army. Regardless, it makes no matter. Marching on Harrenhal is what Lord Tywin wants us to do. He will not give us open pitched battle,'' He shook his head mutely. ''Soon enough we will have Baratheon to deal with, and let us not forget Ser Forley Prester who has fled west with his tail between his legs. He will resurface sooner or later, likely with a bigger host.''

''Lord Stark seems to be the only one with sense here,'' Ser Stevron said with a guarded expression, wringing his hands nervously. ''If Tywin Lannister means to seize Harrenhal, then Lord Bolton will have to march back up to the Twins, and down along the west side of the Green Fork. Baratheon may already be at our doorstep by the time his host trickles into Riverrun.''

''If only some of us had more integrity and less ambition,'' Ser Raymun began, shooting a foul look towards Edmure. ''Then we never would have needed to bend the knee to the usurper in the first place, nor to the kind of man who bought his daughter a crown with the corpses of dead children.''

''We all know that you've got Targaryen cock shoved so far down your throat that it's half a wonder it doesn't stick out your arse Darry,'' Lord Glover grumbled. ''If Aerys Targaryen had told you the sky was green rather than blue, most like you would have believed it.''

''You dare?'' asked Edmure, rising to his feet, but Ser Raymun paid him no mind as he turned towards Jon.

''While the rest of the Riverlands turned their cloak, we alone remained true Your Grace,'' he began, his voice firm and hard. ''Never let it be said that House Darry forgot who saved the Riverlands. Never let it be said that we forgot who it was that vanquished Harren Hoare and his kin, allowing us to rule ourselves. The Riverlords loyalty and allegiance was owed to Aegon's kin, and yet some of us turned our cloaks for the mere sum of greed and ambition,'' he thundered, his hands shaking. ''Only when his daughters were safely wed to two of the greatest lords in Westeros did Lord Hoster Tully think it prudent to commit to the rebels cause. He threw away his honor, so that his grandsons would one day rule from the Eyrie and Winterfell. Every man in this hall knows it to be true.''

Jon had to keep from grimacing. In truth it didn't matter to him who had fought for who, nor what their reasons for doing so were. He needed them to fight for  _him,_  and at the end of the day that was all that mattered, but there were many lords who had fallen from grace after Robert Baratheon's ascent to the Iron Throne. He would need to appeal to them, and this was a first step towards doing so.

''Mind your tongue Ser Raymun,'' Edmure warned him, his voice cold. ''You will not say a word against my father, not here, not in this hall.''

''We turned our cloaks because a man as mad as sin sat the Iron Throne Ser Raymun,'' Karyl Vance muttered, a sour edge to his voice. ''Baratheon may be mad too for all we know, but that does not diminish Aerys's crimes, nor the losses some of us here have suffered to him.''

''You dare speak of losses.. to me?'' Ser Raymun asked icily. ''I lost three brothers that day..  _three_.. or have you forgotten?'' His face was flushed with anger as he slammed his hand down on the table, the sound of it blurring with rain, wind and thunder alike. ''Because i certainly have not, and nor will i ever.''

_I will have to tread carefully here._

''Enough. No more of this, not another word,'' Jon cut in, raising his voice as the hall fell silent. ''We share a common enemy, and we gain naught by sitting here squabbling like children,'' he paused, his gaze settling on Ser Raymun. ''Your family has served mine faithfully. You may consider the lands and titles that Robert Baratheon stripped you of yours again, though i would ask you to have a care when you speak of my cousin's family,'' he said sharply, gazing across the room. ''Keep your faith with me and you will be rewarded, all of you. When this war is over i mean to call a council, and those of you who have stayed by my side from the beginning will not be forgotten, nor your contributions to this war.''

Their gazes all lingered on him. Their eyes filled with anger, greed and wariness alike.

Ser Raymun merely gave a brief nod, his lips slightly parted, looking as if the ability to speak had deserted him. His eyes seemed to be glistening slightly with unshed tears, and Jon felt a strange sense of emotion well up inside him.

Silence filled the hall as Jon's gaze flickered across the room, waiting for the next man to speak.

''And the rest of us?'' asked Lord Vance, his voice wary. ''Are we to be considered traitors now?''

Jon shook his head. ''No, i will not consider anyone who in the past fought beneath the banner of Robert Baratheon a traitor. The past does not matter. What happened back then is of no matter to us,'' Jon said. He turned to the men in the hall, and raised his voice slightly. ''We all know what my grandfather was, but i am not him. Lord Eddard Stark's cause was just, and there is no man alive today that can say it was not. Aerys Targaryen murdered his father, and brother.. tell it true my lords, would you not have desired vengeance were it your own family?'' he paused, letting the words sink in. ''I do not seek to win the throne for my grandfather, nor for my father's sake. I seek to win it so that i may have vengeance for what Robert Baratheon did to Eddard Stark. I seek to win it so that i may hold my sisters in my arms again,'' his eyes moved from man to man. ''Serve me as loyally as you did Hoster Tully during the Rebellion, and you will be rewarded, i assure you. I am no tyrant.''

Jon could feel the weight of the eyes of the Riverlords and Northern lords in the hall alike, weighing on him. Judging him.

He half wondered if any of them believed him, but it made little matter. He needed to give them hope, something to fight for, but that was easier said than done.

In truth he was tired of it all. He understood the reasons for their skepticism. They had little to gain, and much to lose by siding with him, but that did not make it any less frustrating. He had fought one battle hours past, and here he was fighting another.  _It should not be like this._ He thought to himself, unable to shake the feeling that it was somehow his fault. The thought came to him unbidden, and he pushed it away as the Lord of Raventree Hall cleared his throat.

''His Grace has the right of it. The past is the past, and we are facing other problems now,'' Lord Blackwood spoke as the rest of the assembled lords remained quiet. ''Aerys was mad it is true, and one way or another we would have had to eventually remove him from power, either for prince Rhaegar or someone else to take the throne..'' he ran a hand through his hair. ''But we have a new king now,'' he proclaimed, glancing at Jon. ''One who is neither mad, nor cruel from the looks of it. A king at the age of fifteen, who from the tales i have heard fought in the vanguard along with his men and cousin,'' he rose to his feet, his voice loud and clear. ''Does that sound like king scab to you? A man who pissed himself with fear as soon as a blade came within sight of him?''

Low murmurs spread across the room, some lords nodding while others remained quiet.

''The odds still remain stacked against us, no matter how brave or gallant His Grace has proven to be,'' countered Lord Bracken, a dangerous edge to his voice. His gaze flickered towards Jon who met his eyes without flinching. ''You speak of The Reach, and of Dorne, yet i do not see them here. There is no golden rose fluttering in the wind, nor any golden spears. You might've misjudged them, or so it would seem.''

Jon looked across the room, meeting eye after eye. Judging by the mood most of them seemed to agree to Jon's vast dismay.

''You're all wary of our foes numbers, and i understand that. I will not mince words with you, though i will ask you to be patient. We will not stand alone in this fight, i can promise you that,'' Jon said, addressing the hall, wondering how many of them saw through his lies. ''Rest assured that Lord Mace Tyrell does not remain idle at Highgarden due to his loyalty to Robert Baratheon,'' he continued, his voice growing sharper. ''Baratheon has called his banners, and yet neither the Tyrells nor Martells have answered. By now it is clear that they do not intend to fight for him. My ancestor Aegon made the Tyrells the house they are today. Everything they are they owe to him. Without him they would be mere stewards, and nothing more.  _And the same applies to House Tully._ The words remained unspoken, and yet Jon was sure most of them realized the implication.

Jon's throat tightened. ''You need not worry about Robert Baratheon for much longer my lord. Soon enough his gaze will turn elsewhere,'' he paused for a moment. ''Soon enough i will have the might of Highgarden behind me, and the Dornishmen will join their strength to ours once they see the writing on the wall.'' his eyes flickered around the room.  _You would all do well to remember that._ He thought to himself.

A silence fell across the torchlit hall, the wheels in their heads clearly turning. The hall remained as silent as the crypts beneath Winterfell.

''The Royal fleet won't draw Baratheon's eyes away from the Riverlands Your Grace, unless you mean to take the capital?'' Lord Vance asked, his eyes wary. ''It may serve as a distraction, but eventually he will come, and that will be the end of us.''

''You're right. The Royal Fleet won't draw his eyes away from the Riverlands, but a king might, especially one of Targaryen blood.'' Jon cleared his throat. ''I mean to make for Maidenpool at first light. From there on i will sail to Dragonstone and link up with the Velaryons and Celtigars,'' he spoke, his voice loud and clear. ''Lord Mallister and Lord Darry will both be coming with me. The Redwyne fleet lies idle, and neither the lion nor the stag has any true power at sea,'' his gaze flicked to Lord Bracken. ''You're not wrong Lord Bracken. We do not have the strength to fight both Robert Baratheon and Tywin Lannister as of right now. It is me Baratheon wants to kill. It is my head he wants on a silver platter, and i mean to draw his gaze towards the Crownlands,'' he tilted his head curiously. ''I would assume that you have the courage to deal with Tywin Lannister in the meantime my lord?''

The Lord of Stone Hedge's gaze darkened, but he did not reply.

''If Tywin Lannister were to find out why you're marching towards Maidenpool he might think to send his cavalry,'' Lady Mormont interjected. ''It would not be wise Your Grace, not unless half our host were to ride with you.''

''He won't find out my lady, because he will never know that i have moved from Riverrun in the first place,'' Jon said, raising his voice to cut off any defiance. _Because it will be someone else's squire marching, and not me_. He thought to himself. ''By the time he hears of what has happened at Dragonstone it will be too late for him to make a move. Most like he will think that we're merely rallying men from the rest of the Riverlands to strengthen our numbers. May the gods know we are in need of them. It should not strike him as suspicious, but just in case something were to happen i will need you to guard my rear Lord Karstark,'' he continued as the Lord of Karhold gave a small nod.  _Good, the man desires vengeance._   _He shall have it._  ''I mean to rally the Crownlands to my cause. They're bound to hold little love for Tywin Lannister after the sack. In truth it would not surprise me if many of them would prefer a Targaryen sitting on the Iron Throne. Most of them fought beneath Rhaegar's banners at The Trident, and i mean to remind them of that.''

 _It won't be enough._ It wouldn't be near enough, but it would buy them time if nothing else. It would force Robert Baratheon to take a different path, and it would also give Jon time to rally more men to his side while Robb dealt with Tywin Lannister.

Silence filled the hall as murmurs spread across the room, a low chorus of voices echoing throughout the hall.

''There is no food flowing up the roseroad from the south. King's Landing will starve soon enough if we manage to take Rosby or Stokeworth,'' said Lord Mallister, his eyes gleaming. ''Highgarden might not have declared for you yet, but nor are they sending food to the capital. King's Landing lies undefended as well, ripe for the taking. Though we must not spread our forces too wide. There must be enough men left to defend the Riverlands as well.''

''Fear not Lord Mallister. We will not abandon the Riverlands, but in the meantime this could serve as a distraction,'' Jon assured him, before turning to the assembled lords. ''We cannot defeat Baratheon and Lord Tywin together in the field, but with these ships we will not need to. While i'm away our host will be placed under the command of my cousin, Robb Stark, along with Ser Edmure,'' he said, his gaze flickering briefly towards Robb. ''It is in him i will place my trust, as i always have done,'' He tried to meet Robb's gaze, but his brother was staring at something across the hall, uncertainty dancing in his eyes. Jon took a small breath and rose to his feet. ''The Riverlands are awash in blood and flame all around the Gods Eye. Lord Tywin's raiders are torching your homes and putting your smallfolk to the sword as we speak,'' he paused, letting the words sink in. ''Will you accept me as your king, or will you continue to grovel at the feet of Lannisters?''

Silence greeted him as the lords assembled cast wary glances at each other.

After a moment Robb stood, his gaze flickering across the room as the lords stared back at him, waiting to hear his words. Finally he drew his sword, laying it down on the table in front of him.

''They murdered my lord father, and beschirmed his honor with their vile lies,'' Robb declared, his eyes darkening as his voice grew sharper. ''This is the only peace i have for Lannisters and Baratheons.'' he grasped the hilt with his right hand, twisting it so it better caught the light, the bright steel flashing beneath the torches flickering on the wall. ''The Trueborn son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark stands before you, and the rightful heir to the Iron Throne. Robert Baratheon shall never rule the North again, nor any of his kin, not so long as i still live and draw breath.''

Silence reigned in the hall.

''Never Your Grace. I shall never call a Lannister my king, nor a Baratheon,'' declared Marq Piper, his face dark with anger. ''They've left the Riverlands in ruin, and i mean to see them pay for it. I mean to see them pay for every village, field and forest they burnt.''

Jon fell silent, listening. He found himself holding his breath.

''Nor i,'' echoed Rickard Karstark, his hands shaking. ''Eddard and Torrhen did not die in vain, and i do not intend to return to Karhold with just their bones. Give me leave Your Grace, and i'll water the ground with Lannister blood.''

''House Darry shall never forsake their liege and rightful king,'' Lord Raymun declared, rising to his feet. ''I swear it by the seven. I swear it by my sword.''

Lord Jason Mallister cleared his throat as the hall grew silent yet again. ''I have not forgotten what Aerys did to my own family,'' he began as Jon's heart fluttered in his chest. ''But i also know how to differentiate between the sins of one king and another,'' he continued, his voice loud and clear. ''His Grace and his cousin could have hid behind Moat Cailin if they wanted to, and yet they came for us in our time of need. I have no intention of repaying them by treachery,'' he closed his eyes for a moment. ''Fifteen years ago a member of my family was slain by Aerys's orders,'' he paused, and his gaze lingered on Jon who could not help but tense. ''I do not intend to sit idly by this time while my own son remains in the capital at the mercy of Tywin Lannister's illbegotten spawn,'' he gave a small scoff. ''Baratheons have slain Mallisters, and Starks have slain Mallisters. If i were to hold a grudge concerning every slight ever done to House Mallister i would have scarce few friends as it is,'' he paused, his eyes piercing Jon's. ''My sword is yours Your Grace.''

''My father lies buried beneath the Green Fork, slain at the hands of the lion,'' Daryn Hornwood added his voice to the others. ''The Lannisters can rot in the seven hells for all i care, and Baratheon with them.''

''It will be as you command Your Grace,'' replied Lord Blackwood as the other lords gave small nods of confirmation, even Lord Bracken and the Greatjon to Jon's surprise.

One by one, the Riverlords and Northern lords rose to their feet, knelt, and laid their swords at his feet.

Jon's breath was faint, almost strangled when he turned to them. ''Your faith in me will be rewarded. I swear it,'' he assured them, his breath hitching slightly in his throat. ''We are done for the night. Go my lords and take your rest.'' The lords rose as one, bowing and paying their respects.

Jon breathed out a sigh of relief he didn't know he was holding in when every last one of them were gone. At the end of it all only he and Robb remained in the hall. He hung his head into the comfort of his free hand for a moment.

''When were you planning on telling me about any of this Jon?'' Robb asked quietly, his voice slightly withdrawn. ''You can't just decide to ride off to Maidenpool on a whim.''

''It was not my intention to ride for the Crowlands Robb, not until i heard of Dragonstone,'' Jon defended himself. ''Aurane Waters has brought us a gift, and i mean to make use of it.''

''If you were to be harmed. If a stray arrow were to hit you, a dagger.. anything..'' Robb trailed off, his voice as low as a whisper. ''Everything we've done so far will be for naught.''

''I'm well aware of that,'' Jon said quietly, shaking his head. ''And yet what do i gain by staying here? I am king in name only. Your bannermen are only here because of you, and the same thing applies to the Riverlords. They are only here for vengeance. I bring nothing to the fold but my surname. If i can rally the Crownlands beneath my banner we might stand a chance.''

''A chance,'' Robb repeated, his voice dull. ''But at what cost?''

 _At what cost indeed?_  Jon wondered. He pushed the thought away angrily. _I can't look back now. There is too much at stake._

Later that night, alone in his chamber, Jon found himself seated in a chair by the hearth, Ghost by his side, and a cup of wine in his hand.

He found himself thinking of his confrontation with Jaime Lannister. For a moment he had wanted to disappear, to walk away from it all, to leave it all behind, and he did not think he had ever felt so filled with shame as in that moment. He thought of Arya with her fierce grey eyes, so very much like his own. He thought of Sansa with her kind smile, and sweet voice.  _There are more important things at stake than my pride._

He could feel his heart thumping slightly in his chest. He wanted to send an envoy to Essos, to bring his aunt and uncle back to Westeros. He had not dared broach the subject with Robb yet, but it was a thought that had grown bolder within his mind during the last couple of weeks. _They are my family too._ He thought to himself. _They must know by now._

He had ordered Robb to send word of their imminent arrival to Lord Mooton, and for an envoy to be sent to the Reach as soon as possible. He wondered if the Tyrells had even received their letters, because something was clearly wrong. He knew that Margaery Tyrell was betrothed to Renly Baratheon, but surely they would rather prefer a king? They had fought beneath the dragon banner during the rebellion, but would they fight for Jon? Or would they think the stag more likely to prevail?

The thought kept him awake all night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll probably move onto another pov in the next chapter, but we'll see.  
> The end felt kind of cliche at times, but oh well. Hope you enjoyed it anyway.
> 
> And as always, thanks for every comment etc.


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